Broken Illusions
by Sianatra
Summary: Imagine a flirty Hermione, an enticed Draco, a furious Pansy, a helpful Lavender, an exuberant Parvati, a bemused Harry, and an annoyingly persistent Ron. And how did this all happen? A bet, of course - what else? DM/HG
1. The Bet

"We have to do something about that little git," Ron announced darkly, eyeing Malfoy from over the top of his textbook.

"Agreed," Harry said, nodding his head in consent. "You have any ideas?"

"Nope. I'm counting on Hermione for that."

I sighed plaintively and snapped my textbook shut; it landed onto my desk with a thud. We were in Potions class and had been assigned to complete a Strengthening Solution by the end of the hour, a task that was proving much more difficult than anticipated. "Don't you two have anything better to do than make other people's lives miserable?" I asked Ron, a note of sarcasm lacing my voice. Through the haze of glistening vapors in the room, I saw the boys exchange amused glances.

"Of course not, Hermione!" Ron said, a large smile on his face. "That's what we live for!"

"You're an idiot, Ronald Weasley."

"And you're a nerd, Hermione Granger."

I bristled. "Am not!"

"Are too," Ron shot back.

"Am _not_!"

"Are _too_!"

"_Guys_!" Harry interrupted, clearly annoyed. "We need to work out a strategy; come on! You two need to stop bickering if you want this to work!"

"Oh fine," Ron sighed irritably, his brief moment of fun spoiled. "What were you thinking of, Hermione?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in my seat. "I'm not going to help you two with this," I informed them bossily. "I think getting revenge is absolutely despicable."

"But don't you want to get back at Malfoy?" Ron asked disbelievingly, dropping his surly attitude. "After all the things he's said to you? He's called you a mud-blood, for crying out loud!"

I sniffed disdainfully. "Mud-blood or not, I'm still a person. Nothing Malfoy says can change that."

"But – but – "

"_No_, Ron, I'm not interested."

Harry tried to knock some sense into me. "Hermione, Malfoy's our enemy! He's hated us ever since he first laid eyes on us, and he's done everything he can to wreck our lives!"

"That's true, he has," I admitted reluctantly, adding a fistful of peppermint leaves to my potion. "But that's no reason to go about plotting ways to get back at him. After all, if you did that, you'd be just as bad as he is."

Ron's eyes bugged. "Are you actually _sticking up_ for Malfoy, Hermione? I know you have low standards, but _him_, really, that's absolutely beyond – "

"Oh, shut _up_, Ron!" I snapped angrily, looking a bit flustered. "Of course I hate Malfoy, but he deserves the right to be treated with respect; I mean, everyone does, and I believe that if you really think about it, you'll find that people _actually have feelings_; who would have known?"

"Sheesh, no need to get so touchy."

"I'm not touchy, I just hate it when you judge people."

"Hermione, we _know_ Malfoy, we're not judging him. He's a prat – flat-out, no questions asked."

"Be quiet Ron, let me concentrate!" I hissed.

He looked grumpy, but he knew better than to argue with me when I was in a mood like this. I wrenched open my textbook again and ran my fingers down the list of ingredients. Okay. Now all I needed was a powdered griffin claw and a vial of salamander blood.

I rose from my seat and made my way over to the store cupboard, an ardent potion maker's dream. It was chock full of ingredients; it contained almost everything you could imagine. I immediately began rummaging through a box in the back labeled "salamander parts." I pawed past a bottle of shiny, black salamander eyes, a healing salve made of salamander skin, and a container of ground salamander powder. Finally, I found the vial of salamander blood. I removed it from the box elatedly.

I crossed the storeroom to the box marked "griffin parts." As with the salamander parts, I searched through the box until I found the bag marked "powdered griffin claw."

A contented smile prominent on my face, I turned around to exit the room, but a wickedly familiar figure blocked my way.

"Oh, look," he said rudely. "If it isn't the potions whiz herself."

_So_ like Malfoy to insult me right after I'd stood up for him. That jerk.

"Getting ingredients, are you, Granger?"

"Yes, I am," I said curtly. "Now if you'll please excuse me…" I tried to push past him, but he didn't budge.

"Oh no," he chuckled, smirking away. "You're not going anywhere. Not until you give me those ingredients."

"I think not," I huffed loftily, staring straight at him. No way would Draco Malfoy get the best of me. No _way_.

Malfoy kept smirking. "Give me those ingredients," he commanded. "Now."

"No."

"And why not?"

"They're _mine_, stupid."

"I know. That's why I want them."

I looked at him quizzically. Sometimes he made no sense whatsoever.

"Please, Malfoy, get out of the way," I ordered, starting to get annoyed. "My potion's going to be ruined."

"Well, that's exactly the point, Granger, don't you see?"

I tried very hard to keep from punching him. "Yes, I do see. Now _get out of the way_."

"If you insist," he said, rolling his eyes and stepping aside.

Well, that had been easy.

I made my way out of the storeroom, doing my best to look haughty and uninterested.

He sniggered faintly and stuck out his foot as I passed; it all was so sudden, so fast, that I could barely collect myself before I tripped and flew through the air. I hit the cold stone floor of the dungeons with a dull thump, and the breath was instantaneously knocked from me. As I laid there, wheezing for air, Malfoy bent down next me. "Sorry, Granger," he whispered into my ear, not sounding sorry at all. "My foot slipped." He grinned and scooped up the ingredients that had fallen from my arms, then walked away without a second glance."

The _nerve_ of that boy!

I heaved myself off the floor and shouted after him, "Get back here, Malfoy!"

He either didn't hear me, or was simply pretending to ignore what I'd said. Probably the latter.

"That horrible, horrible person," I muttered to myself agitatedly as I picked my way back to my seat. "He's so evil! He stole my freaking ingredients and he just expects to get away with it! That's so wrong!" My voice rose hysterically; I could barely contain myself. "I mean, what kind of a class is this? What kind of a class does the teacher actually let this kind of behavior take place? Oh, right, I forgot I was in _Potions_! That explains everything. Everything! Stupid, stupid Malfoy! God, I hate his guts! I hate them! I hate them so – "

"Miss Granger?" Professor Snape asked drily, suddenly appearing behind me, a loathing gleam in his black eyes. "Do you have something you wish to share with the class?

"Oh – oh – no, sir," I stuttered, mortified; turning a faint shade of pink. Snape had a repulsive way of appearing right when you least expected him, most usually in a moment where you were making a fool of yourself.

"Well then what was it you were rambling on about, Miss Granger?" he persisted.

"Oh – err – nothing," I squeaked in a high-pitched voice.

Professor Snape's mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile. "From now on, please refrain from prattling on about your opinions during my class, Miss Granger. I believe it would be better for you if you actually paid attention to your work instead of talking all of our ears off in that whiny, insistent voice of yours." Certain that he had made his point, Snape turned away. "And just to let you know, you should probably check your Strengthening Solution. It seems to be smoking."

I gasped in horror and whirled around, only to find that what Snape had said was, indeed, true. My potion was smoking fervently and letting off a very unpleasant odor, something of a cross between burnt rubber and smelly shoes.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said as he strolled off, "for your extreme lack of concentration."

As I attempted to fix my potion, hands trembling with rage, Malfoy sniggered; he intended to take full advantage of the situation. "Poor little Granger," he said in a carrying whisper, his voice spiked with malice. "Looks like she just got what was coming for her. This proves my new theory – ugly people really _do _attract trouble. Who would have known?"

"Oh, Merlin," I heard Ron mutter under his breath. "She's gonna snap."

I snapped.

"Just _who_ do you think you _are_?" I demanded of Malfoy, eyes flashing dangerously, fists clenched. "You can't just go around stealing people's potion ingredients and then insulting the living _daylights_ out of them and calling them 'ugly' with absolutely _no_ regard to their feel – "

"That will be quite enough, Miss Granger," Professor Snape said icily. "Perhaps your tongue will be curbed after I take 50 more points from Gryffindor."

I stood stock-still, glaring at Snape, a look of uncontained hatred etched into my features. Then slowly, deliberately, I lowered myself down into my seat, never taking my eyes off his face.

Snape smirked. "Thank you for settling down, Miss Granger. Now if you'll please see to your potion…"

And with that, he walked away.

I was seething, but, nevertheless, I stalked back to the store closet and retrieved a fresh set of ingredients, which I then chucked into my cauldron rather brutally. The potion returned to its normal shade of purple and ceased smoking.

"I can't believe Malfoy said that!" I vented angrily to Harry and Ron. "That was utterly mortifying; I got 60 points taken away from Gryffindor because of him! I mean, honestly! He called me ugly in front of the whole class, too! He's such a stuck up, spoiled, rude, insulting, evil little – "

Ron chortled. "Changed your mind, have you?"

"You bet I have!" I said with passion. "I was a bit leery about getting revenge at first, but this _completely_ pushed me over the edge."

"Leery?" Ron laughed. "You weren't leery, you were totally against the whole idea!"

I raised my chin. "Well, I'm not anymore. That jerk is going to get what's coming for him. I'll do anything to make sure he pays for what he's done to us."

"Anything?" Ron asked wonderingly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"_Anything_."

* * *

"Never," I said stubbornly, shaking my head. "I will _not_ do that. Ever. Even if you gave me a hundred galleons."

We were sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, arguing over what plan of action to take. Ron was being unhelpful as usual.

"Oh come _on_, Hermione," Ron begged. "Please. Do it for me."

"_Never_, Ron, I mean it."

"You swore you would do _anything_," Ron said accusingly.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that you'd present this idea."

"You're smart; you should have guessed that I would have."

"Merlin, Ron, just shut up and let me think!"

Ron closed his mouth and lapsed into a sulky silence. We sat quietly for a few minutes until Harry spoke up.

"I think that before we decide what we're going to do, we should figure out what would hurt him the most. Does he have any secret weaknesses or obvious vulnerabilities? If we learn those, we'll be able to crack him."

I smiled brightly. "Good idea, Harry," I said. "You're starting to think strategically."

Harry beamed; praise coming from me was extremely rare. "Does anyone have any ideas?" he asked.

Ron raised his hand tentatively.

"Ron, you're not in class, you don't have to raise your hand," I said cynically.

"Oh – yeah – right." Ron cleared his throat, trying to cover his embarrassment. "Well, I was, err, thinking that maybe if Malfoy fell in love with some girl, she could, uh, break his heart or something. Yeah. Harry's always said that love's the most powerful thing in the world. Why shouldn't that apply to Malfoy?"

"That's brilliant, Ron!" Harry exclaimed. "A broken heart would hurt him more than anything!"

Ron looked rather appalled that Harry had approved his idea; I bit back a laugh.

"But how will we find a girl that Malfoy will fall in love with?" I asked, shattering Ron's carefully thought out plan. "I mean, this is Malfoy we're talking about. He's just about as romantically inclined as a goldfish. In order for him to fall in love, the girl would have to be absolutely perfect."

"Oh," Ron muttered, disappointed. "Not many girls like that around here."

A few more minutes passed in silence.

Then, suddenly, Ron noticed something that he'd never really given much thought to before. "Hey Hermione," he said brightly. "You're a girl! I mean, you're not perfect or anything, but you're really smart and have the potential to look pretty nice, I s'ppose. You could do it."

"Of course not," I said nastily, immediately rejecting the suggestion. "That's even more absurd than your idea of chucking water balloons at his head."

Harry looked at me pensively. "Maybe you should listen to him, Hermione. He's got a point. If you do it, you'll have an actual reason for wanting to hurt Malfoy."

"Whatever," I said with a tinkling, carefree little laugh. "Not like he would actually fall for me or anything. I'm a Gryffindor, I'm muggle-born, I'm brainy, I'm ugly, and I'm bossy. He thinks I'm a complete waste of time and space."

Ron smirked.

"What?" I demanded.

"Wanna make a bet?"

"A – a what, excuse me?"

"A bet. Surely you know what a bet is, Hermione!"

"I _know_ what a bet is, Ron. But what is it that you want to bet on?"

"You and Malfoy getting together."

I snort a little. "That's absurd, Ronald – "

"No, hear me out. Listen to my conditions. If you break Malfoy's heart by the end of the year, I'll hang myself by my underpants to the top spire of the Astronomy Tower and let everyone watch. Then I'll declare my undying love for the Giant Squid and squirt giant bottles of ketchup into the crowd. Sound good?"

"Too good," I admitted grudgingly. Ron embarrassing himself like that would be hilarious to watch. "What happens if I lose the bet?

Ron sniggered. "You'd have to kiss me."

"No way! That's unfair."

"Take it or leave it, 'Mione. I personally think you're getting the better deal." He made disgusting little smooching noises with his lips: I shuddered and backed away.

In that moment, I resented him. He was forcing me to choose between two equally horrible alternatives. I could break Malfoy's heart, then watch Ron make a fool of himself – OR – I could lose the bet and have to kiss Ron. Neither option sounded extremely appealing. But if Ron really _did_ embarrass himself…

"3 – 2 – 1…"

"Okay, okay!" I said furiously. "I'll do it."

Harry looked somewhat relieved; Ron looked triumphant. "Shake on it?" he asked, extending a pale, freckled hand.

Though my conscience told me not to, my hand raised of its own accord and slipped into his.

"Let the fun begin," he said, a smile playing about his lips.

Then he and Harry walked up the stairs to their dormitory, leaving me to contemplate the seriousness of my impulsive actions and wonder what in the world I was going to do.

* * *

Please review! I'm still considering on whether or not to continue this story, so if I get lots of reviews, I'll most likely keep going.

:) Thanks guys!


	2. The Transformation

"Hold still," Parvati ordered as she yanked the brush through my hair yet again. "I can't get all the knots out if you're fidgeting."

I whimpered and choked back a sob. This was my attempt at beauty. I thought that if I looked nicer, then perhaps it would be easier to make Malfoy fall for me, and at any rate, it would be a whole lot more efficient than having to concoct a complicated love potion. However, much to my dismay, I had quickly learned that looking pretty wasn't as easy as it seemed.

"Do you even brush your hair at all?" Parvati asked, thoroughly exasperated and panting slightly; she was quite apparently fighting a losing battle in the quest to tame my bushy hair. I didn't blame her. I also had tried and failed many times to make it look even remotely more attractive, but the truth was obvious – it just couldn't be done.

"I'm sorry, Parvati," I said apologetically. "But I never really keep up my appearances."

"I can see that," she muttered, ripping the brush through my hair. The snarling noises it made were truly frightening.

"I can only remember one time in my life when my hair looked pretty," I said wistfully, staring off into the distance and trying not to focus on the horrid tingling sensations that were running up and down my scalp. "That one time was at the Yule Ball. I had spent so much time earlier that day styling it with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion to make it look presentable. But I guess it looked really nice, because I remember receiving so many compliments that night. It made me feel so…so good inside. Like I was actually worth something."

Parvati frowned slightly and attempted to free the brush from my now hopelessly tangled hair. "I hate it how you always put yourself down, Hermione," she said disapprovingly. "You _are_ worth something. I mean, you're really smart, you're clever, you're funny, and to be honest, you're actually quite pretty." Seeing my skeptical glance she added, "Except for your hair, of course, if you don't mind me saying. I just can't seem to do anything with it."

"I'm suppose I'll be bushy for life," I sighed. "If _you_ can't fix me, no one can."

Parvati was known school-wide for her expertise in the beauty field; she was especially proficient at giving makeovers to plain girls and skyrocketing them to the top of the Hogwarts food chain. Take Eloise Midgen, for example. Ordinary, not much of a looker. Parvati transformed her dirty blonde hair into a gorgeous, shining mane of pure gold; she performed a simple Replacement Spell to center her nose; and, with the aid of makeup, she made Eloise's dull, lifeless blue eyes pop with such amazing intensity that her best friend could barely even recognize her. Such was the magic of Parvati.

"Don't worry, Hermione," she said reassuringly. "I'm not through with you yet."

I didn't know whether to take this as a good thing or a bad thing.

Evidentially, she thought it was a good thing because she continued, "I still have a few amazing tricks up my sleeve. You won't _believe_ how much I've learned about giving makeovers over the past few years."

"What kind of tricks?" I asked hesitantly.

"Oh, some basic charmwork. Really, anyone can do it. But it just so happens to be one of those few spells that you can't cast on yourself, so, thus, I do it for you." She smiled brightly. "Is that okay?"

"Yes, perfectly fine."

"Okay then. What's your desired hair color?"

"Red," I said quickly. I had had always envied Ginny's beautiful, curly red locks, and had spent many a time wishing they were my own.

My color choice seemed not to faze Parvati, and she continued firing questions at me.

"Straight, wavy, or curly?"

"Wavy."

"Favorite eye color?"

"Golden brown."

"Good, you have that already. Any makeup preferences?"

"No."

"Any specific makeup colors that you like?"

"Not really."

Parvati looked pleased. "This is great!" she exclaimed happily. "All I have to do is cast a few charms on your hair and touch up your face, then you'll look perfect."

"I didn't know it was that easy," I marveled wonderingly. "If I had, I would have asked for help much sooner."

Parvati laughed; the sound reminded me of tinkling bells. "Well, there's no time like the present!" she said cheerfully. "Close your eyes, Hermione, I want you to be completely surprised by the time I'm done."

I obeyed and closed my eyes, praying for the best.

* * *

Within a few short minutes, my transformation was complete.

"You can open your eyes now!" squealed an exuberant Parvati. I could hear her literally bouncing up and down with uncontained excitement.

Slowly, cautiously, I opened my eyes.

The person in that mirror was not me.

She couldn't be me. She was beautiful, stunning, exquisite, exotic.

Not me.

I raised my hand tentatively. The girl in the mirror did as well. I stood up and jumped. The girl in the mirror jumped, too.

I struggled to breathe as it became obvious that the person in the mirror was indeed me, and not just a figment of my imagination. My perfect, gorgeous hair flew down my shoulders in cascading curtains of ethereal fire; it caught the flickering candlelight in the room and shimmered like the sun, so lovely and vibrant that my whole head seemed to be glowing with vivid red flame. A light coat of makeup eliminated the faint sprinkling of freckles on my face, and my cheeks had been made rosy by a slight sponging of pale pink blush that somehow made me look older, more dignified. However, what I considered to be the most shocking change of my appearance was not my hair or my complexion, but my eyes. They were hugely intensified by the use of gold eyeliner around the top and bottom of my lids; the eyeliner perfectly brought out the golden flecks in my irises and by doing so, made my eyes sparkle like glittering amber jewels.

I looked beautiful. I looked perfect. I looked unreal.

It was too good to be true.

Parvati beamed with delight and began rummaging through her trunk. "You like it, don't you?"

I nodded my head mutely.

"I'm so glad, Hermione. I think you look so much prettier now. It really was quite easy to make you look like this. You have a very nice face."

"Well, thanks, Parvati."

"You're very welcome. It was no trouble at all."

She continued to dig through her trunk for a few minutes and I sat in silence, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I was beautiful. Beautiful. It was so strange, so different…but it was so real. So…breathtaking. I'd never thought, not even in my wildest dreams, that I would ever be able to look like this, but now, here I was, looking like a fiery angel.

Malfoy didn't have a chance.

Parvati emerged from the depths of her trunk looking rather flustered, yet at the same time, triumphant. In her hands she clutched a shimmering silver gown with wide, trailing sleeves and a form-fitting skirt. It seemed as though it emitted starlight, sparkling starlight that filled the whole room with its grace and beauty.

"Oh, Parvati," I whispered. "I couldn't possibly – "

"Hermione, I insist. This was Padma's, but the dressmaker made the waist too tight. Neither of us have any use for it."

"But what about Lavender, maybe – "

"Lavender already tried it. She has…err…more of a showy figure…and, well, it didn't really fit her. But you and Padma are almost the exact same shape and build. Here," she thrust the dress at me, "try it on. I have a good feeling about this, and my good feelings are generally proven correct."

"But when would I wear it? I mean, I couldn't just go strutting around the castle with this on – "

"Hermione, do you even listen to gossip at all? Rumor is that there's going to be an Autumn Dance this year; it was Dumbledore's brilliant idea. If you wear this to the dance, boys will run to you like flies attracted to honey."

"You really think so?" I asked hopefully, shoving away my doubts.

"I know so. Now put the dress on."

Hesitantly, I took the gown from her. The soft, cool material slipped through my fingers like water, running over my hand in torrents of sheer fabric.

"It's so beautiful," I breathed. "What's it made of?"

"Satin."

"Oh, wow. Well, I'll be changing in the bathroom if you need me."

"Sure, that's fine."

Unsteadily, I hobbled over to the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, I took a deep breath. Time to put on the dress. With trembling fingers, I removed my robes and slipped the gown over my head. It flew down my figure and settled at my waist, shimmering all the while. It was a perfect fit. The silvery sheen of the material was the perfect compliment to my shocking red hair; it toned the color down slightly, but at the same time, added a heightened air of poise to my appearance. I smiled, and the girl in the mirror smiled back.

I stepped out of the bathroom confidently.

"Do you like it, Parvati?" I asked.

"Like it?" she gasped bewilderedly, rising from her seat on the edge of her four-poster. "Of course I like it! It looks perfect on you!"

"Thank you so much," I said warmly, wrapping her in a hug. "I could have never done this by myself."

"You're welcome, Hermione. You've been such a good friend to me all these years, even when I didn't deserve it. The least I could do was repay you."

"Well, I suppose I should take the dress off now."

"No – wait! Harry and Ron are in the Common Room! Why don't you go show them your new look?"

"Oh, of course I will!" I vehemently agreed. The expression on Ron's face would be priceless.

"Go on, then," she said, smirking, almost as if she could read my thoughts.

Giggling excitedly, I placed my fingers on the handle of the door and stepped out of the dormitory.

* * *

Thanks for reading; please review! :)


	3. The Revelation

I glided down the staircase, placing my feet purposefully and deliberately onto each of the steps, my eyes twinkling with unsuppressed merriment. Ron and Harry sat in the corner, looks of concern on their faces as they scrambled to complete the homework that was really-supposed-to-have-been-due-the-day-before-but-since-they-had-forgotten-about-it-they-were-obligated-to-do-it-tonight. Ron's face was particularly amusing; it boasted a panicked expression similar to one you would find upon the features of a person in the path of an oncoming truck.

The trail of my gown floated behind me as I descended the last stair. Slowly, so as to not attract their attention, I made my way over to the book-laden table where they were studiously scribbling away at pieces of parchment that never seemed to end.

"Hello," I said, barely managing to keep the excitement out of my voice.

Ron looked up, a small blotch of ink dangling from the end of his long nose; the second her saw me, his jaw dropped open in ultimate surprise. "Bloody Crookshanks, Harry," he whispered fervently, nudging his friend's arm and never taking his eyes off my face. "I think we just scored an exchange student from Beauxbatons."

Harry looked up interestedly, when he caught sight of me, his jaw fell open along with Ron's, so that the two of them resembled gaping goldfish, stuck by the apparent loveliness of my presence. "Nice – nice to meet you," he stuttered. "I – I'm – I'm Harry Potter. Maybe you've heard of me? I'm quite famous you, know."

Ron interjected eagerly, obviously not wanting to be outshined by Harry's statement. "And I'm Ronald Weasley. I'm a pure-blood, Harry Potter's best friend, and most definitely single."

I laughed incredulously and drew closer, then took a seat on top of the table, crossing my legs with deliberate formality. The stupid loons didn't even recognize me! "Don't you know who I am?" I asked.

"No, but I would like to," said Ron, winking suggestively.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, cut it out right this instant!"

"How'd you know my middle name?" Ron demanded. "Are you some kind of a stalker or something?"

"Stalker; no, best friend; yes. Just _look_ at me, Ron."

"No need to worry about that, I'm most certainly looking." He scrutinized me for a few seconds, then the realization dawned on his face; he promptly blanched, and his face grew as white as a sheet. "Her – Hermione?" he croaked. "That you?"

" Indeed it is, my lovestruck goon. I'm afraid the prospect of a lovely Beauxbatons girl is fading rather rapidly, isn't it?"

He nodded his head mutely.

Harry just looked puzzled. "If you're Hermione, then what exactly happened to you?" he asked. "I mean, you look really – "

"Pretty?" I interrupted. "Yes, Parvati worked her magic on me."

"Ah, that explains it," Ron said faintly, recovering from the initial shock of my revelation. "Parvati's a miracle worker, she is. Merlin's beard, she even made _you_ look hot!"

"Are you implying that I wasn't hot before?" I asked him jokingly.

"Err, well, yeah. You look _tons_ better now, though. Like, I'm not even kidding."

"Well, thanks, Ron," I gushed, beaming at his unexpected praise.

Harry rubbed his forehead wearily and turned his gaze back to his parchment. "Hermione, would you mind – "

"Of course, Harry. Just let me go back upstairs and change, okay?"

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver. I like the dress, by the way. It's very becoming."

I smiled, then turned around and rushed to the stairs, my fiery red hair steaming behind me; by this point, I had given up on retaining my composure and I simply felt as if I should exercise the strong desire to do something rather rash and un-Hermione-like, such as running up a staircase childishly. Which I did. I reached the top, breathless and panting, then flew open the door. Parvati stood in the middle of the dormitory, staring at me with a somewhat worried look in her eyes. "Hermione?" she asked tentatively. "Are you okay?"

I laughed wildly and plopped down onto my bed with a satisfied sigh. "I'm better than okay!" I informed her. "Ron and Harry were utterly bemused; they didn't even recognize me at first! Ron actually thought I was an exchange student from Beauxbatons, do you believe it?"

Parvati giggled happily and sat down on the bed next to me. "Yes, I do actually, I wouldn't put anything past that boy."

"Me neither," I chuckled. "You should have seen the look on his face. Harry, too. I can't thank you enough, Parvati."

"No need," she said, waving her hand carelessly. "It was no trouble at all."

"Should I take off the dress now?"

"I suppose you have to, unless you want to sleep in it, of course."

"True."

I bustled over to the bathroom where my robes lay in a disorganized heap on the tiled floor. I shrugged the dress over my head and it fell lightly to the ground; I picked up my robes and tossed them on with a resigned air. Goodbye pretty gown, hello mundane school clothes. I walked out of the room, the dress draped over my arm.

"I have to go help the boys with their homework," I said to Parvati, rolling my eyes as I deposited the dress at the foot of my bed. "They're getting rather desperate."

She looked at me sympathetically. "Well, have fun. I'm going to bed."

"Sure. See you tomorrow, Parvati."

"See you."

I crossed the room and walked out of the door. This time, Ron and Harry were anticipating me.

"Wondered where you'd gone off to," said Ron. "Now are you going to help us or not?"

"Of course I'll help you!" I snapped at him. "But it's only because you're too stupid to do it yourself!" Taking advantage of his silence, I scrambled down the stairs without further interruption. "Now what subject are you two working on?" I asked as I approached the table, peering intently at the pieces of parchment that were strewn about like leaves.

"Divination," Harry sighed despairingly, running his fingers through his untidy black hair in a highly agitated manner. "Trelawney wants detailed birth charts done by tomorrow morning, with a full summary of how your ruling planets affect your personality and way of life."

"Stupid bug," I muttered under my breath as I sat down. "She should have better things to do than assign meaningless homework that only takes up the students' time."

"Yes, I agree, Hermione, but can you help us?" Ron questioned. "You dropped out in third year, surely you don't know anything about what we're doing here."

"As a matter of fact, I _do_!" I hissed at him. "I've recently been doing some research on planetary alignments for Astrology, and I _just so happen_ to have a book that discusses the in-depth meaning of star charts and birth meanings."

"Right. I forgot that you always seem to have a book for everything."

"Oh, shut up, Ron."

Ron obeyed, and shut up.

I pulled my wand out from under my robes and muttered, "Accio Astrology Book," and within a few seconds, it came zooming into my outstretched hand. I snapped it open, laid it on the table, and got to work.

* * *

That night, I trudged wearily up to my dormitory, tired, but smiling. After a few treacherous hours of study, Ron, Harry, and I had finally managed to complete the Divination homework; however, I had to admit, after the second hour, I simply started giving them wrong answers, for the sake of time. But they finished. So all was well. I plopped onto my bed and snuggled under the covers, not even bothering to take my robes off. I could do that in the morning…

Then, my stream of thoughts halted rather abruptly, and I fell into the clutches of sleep.

* * *

By now, you probably know what I'm going to ask you to do - review please! It'll make my day! *big puppy dog eyes*


	4. The Beginning

I woke up, sleepy and disoriented. Yawning widely, I pushed off the thick blanket and swung my feet off the bed. Looking out of the window, I concluded that the day would be very pleasant; the sun was shining passionately, and a faint breeze rustled the leaves of the oaks in the Forbidden Forest, proving that a sweet relief from the enduring heat of the summer was rapidly nearing.

I managed a drowsy smile as I discovered that I was still clothed in my school robes from the night before.

I stood up and yawned again, then stretched my arms behind my head. On the way up, my hands accidentally brushed my hair, my beautiful, sleek, wavy hair…

All at once, the events of yesterday came hurtling back towards me. The bet, the change of my appearance…I rushed over to my mirror, my heart beating much faster than usual.

The girl that stared back at me was unchanged from the previous day; her fiery red hair was glinting in the morning sunlight, her golden brown eyes were sparkling with happiness.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I let the truth wash over me: This was who I was now. There was no changing, no turning back. This was me. Hermione Granger was beautiful.

I grabbed a brush from the side of my bed and began stroking it through my hair, marveling at how easily it slipped through my tresses, like a knife through soft butter.

Deciding that my hair looked nice, and resolving that there was no need to change into a new pair of robes, I strode out of the dormitory, the blood pounding through my veins with uncontrolled excitement. Today was the day I would reveal my transformed self to everyone.

This was going to be huge.

I scrambled out of the portrait hole and nearly skipped down the corridor to the Great Hall; it was only with great restraint that I contained this urge. All too soon, the huge doors loomed in front of me. I raised my hand, breathless, and shoved them open.

* * *

Every eye was on me.

Smirking, I made my way to the Gryffindor table and sat down next to Ron and Harry. Whispers floated throughout the hall.

_"Blimey, who is that girl?"_

_"She looks so familiar…"_

_"Wonder if she'd go out with me, eh?" _

Choosing to ignore these comments, I ladled a heaping spoonful of grits onto my plate and began eating.

"Seems like everyone's impressed, Hermione," said Ron, beaming. "They don't even know who you are!"

"Neither did you, Ron, and you've known me half my life," I reminded him.

"Aw, I knew it was you all along," he said evasively, stuffing a large portion of fried egg into his mouth. "I was only kidding around."

I snorted. "Of course you were. Of course."

Harry smirked and nudged my arm. "Look at the Slytherins, Hermione."

I cast a glance at their table, and sure enough, many of them were sitting either dumbfounded or outraged; Pansy Parkinson was shooting daggers at me, while Blaise Zabini appeared quite as though he had just died and gone to heaven. I laughed and returned my gaze to the boys. "Most of them don't look too pleased, do they?"

"Quite a funny lot, those Slytherins are," said Ron, shoveling more food into his mouth. "So full of themselves, yet so unbelievably stupid."

Harry chuckled. "I hardly consider them stupid, Ron. They sure can whip up some nice insults."

"Still, that's just about the only thing they're good at."

"True."

All of a sudden, a multitude of feathery things burst down from the ceiling, an assortment of parcels and envelopes tied to their legs.

"Great, owl post's here!" Ron said happily, abandoning his breakfast. "Wonder if I got anything from Mum?"

A small, wobbly owl fell down and promptly landed in Harry's Pumpkin Juice.

"Merlin, Errol, why are you always crashing into things?" Ron demanded of the bedraggled creature, who was now sopping wet and quite miserable. "You need to get a hold of yourself, mate." He gingerly reached into the Pumpkin Juice and pulled the owl out. "Ah, good, the letter didn't get soggy."

"Ron!" I reprimanded, looking thoroughly shocked. "You need to be nicer to poor Errol; after all, he's trying, can't you see that?"

"Well, I might be nicer to him if he'd deliver the bloody letters to _me_ instead of hurtling into flavored beverages," muttered Ron, yanking the letter from Errol's leg.

"_Ron_!"

"What? Thinking of starting S.P.O.C.K now, are you? Society for the Promotion of Owlish Care and Keeping?"

"If you keep treating Errol that way, I might! In fact, that's actually quite a good idea; maybe I will create a S.P.O.C.K!"

"Raving mad, she is," Ron said to Harry, opening his letter. "Raving."

"Am not!" I protested.

"Are too!" Ron fired back.

"Am _not_!"

"Are _too_!"

Neville walked up to the table, abruptly cutting off our argument. "Hi Harry, Ron," he said. "Where's Hermione?"

"Right here," said Ron gesturing to me. "You might not recognize her; she's had a bit of a transfiguration job."

Neville, upon seeing me, gaped widely. "Y – you're Hermione?"

"The one and only."

"B – but – "

"Parvati fixed me up last night. It was about time, too."

"Yeah, it sure was," sniggered Ron. I shot him a withering glance.

"Well…it's such an amazing change, Hermione, and…err… I'm glad you went for it," said Neville, backing away. "I've got to go study now. See you guys later!"

"Bye, Neville!" I called. "You know what?" I turned back to Ron and Harry and stood up. "I think I'll go to the – "

"Library."

"Uh, yeah… the library. I need to finish my essay for Professor McGonagall."

"Okay, see you later, Hermione," said Ron.

"Bye," said Harry.

And off I went.

* * *

**I am EXTREMELY sorry for the tremendously long hiatus, but I'm back now, and I'll try to be posting much more frequently! It's just that homework seems to be ruling my life lately and I haven't had the chance to do much of anything but tedious essays and reports. I apologize for the short chapter, but the next one will be much longer, I promise. :) **

**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers who put up with me and my craziness. You guys rock my world!**

**Luv ya, and please review if you liked it!**


	5. The Library

I hurried through the corridors, the heavy weight of my bookbag bouncing against my leg and causing my footfalls to be somewhat more abrupt and irregular than usual. I felt bad about lying to the boys; I really did. But since they were so clueless most of the time, this one little excuse wasn't going to make much of a difference. The truth was, I had finished the easy for Professor McGonagall a week ago, typical Hermione-style. But they didn't have to know that.

Why I really wanted to go to the library was to find a book describing a fool-proof way to charm any boy into liking you. I'd heard they had a whole section on dating and such. I figured that if I could get my hands on a book like that, I would have no trouble charming Malfoy. Theoretically.

It was going to be hard. Like trying-to-balance-a-dictionary-on-your-head-while-walking-on-a-tightrope hard. Nearly impossible. Malfoy's wasn't just going to fall for me immediately. In order for the plan to work, I needed major behavioral refinement. I needed to endure the process of morphing into the girlfriend of a superior, disdainful prat. For this, I was going to have to completely transform my entire entity into a giggling airhead with fluff for brains and clothes that revealed way too much. In all, I was going to have to do the unthinkable.

Become a flirt.

I mean, really, that's the only way Malfoy would ever fall for me. He was shallow; he never looked to the inside of any girl, so if I was going to glean any chance of his interests at all, I needed to flaunt my body as much as humanly possible.

It was a good thing I wasn't flat.

I rounded the corner to the entrance of the library and walked in, reveling in the delicious aroma of crisp parchment and ancient books. I had barely made it three steps before I realized that I had made the luckiest decision of my life in coming to the library at this hour. There, standing in the corner of the room with Parvati, looking sulky and ultimately uninterested, was the Queen Flirt herself, Lavender Brown. She was dressed in appropriate garb: A swooping low violet top and frightfully short denim shorts made up her outfit; they were receiving appreciative glances and wolf whistles from the small gang of boys in the back corner and a disapproving scowl from Madam Pince, who was putting books back on the shelves in an irritated sort of fashion.

I nearly died of happiness. Though Lavender and I had never been on what you could call friendly terms, we had shared a dormitory for the past few years, and that alone should be enough to bond just about anyone. I was almost positive that she would help me.

"Lavender!" I whispered loudly, crossing the room to where she and Parvati were standing.

She looked up and when she saw me, her mouth fell open in astonishment. "Who are you?" she asked, her tone a cross between bewilderment and envy.

Parvati smiled from behind her and opened her mouth to speak. "Lav, that's – "

"No, no," interrupted Lavender. "How would _you _know, Parvati? This is obviously a new student. We should make it a priority to be kind and generous to her." She bridged the distance between us until she was standing right in front of me, a dazzlingly fake smile plastered on her face. "I'm Lavender Brown," she said, as though this should make me fall to my knees in reverent worship. "Welcome to Hogwarts. If you need someone to show you around or to just help make you feel more at home, I'm your girl. Whatever you need: directions to class, new friends, advice on boys – I'll be happy to help."

I tried to keep a straight face. I really did. But seeing Lavender in suck-up mode was just too much. I burst out laughing, and though my hand flew to my mouth in a weak attempt to stop it, my whole body was inadvertently convulsing into a fit of the giggles. Parvati caught my eye, and soon we were both laughing our heads off, leaning on the bookshelves for support. Lavender looked completely lost; Madam Pince looked furious. She swooped down upon us, beady eyes flashing with malice. "Hermione, Parvati, cut it out this instant," she hissed. "I thought you two would know better." She bopped us over the head with a book she was holding, and then sped off, probably on her way to assault some poor innocent soul who had just brought food into the library.

My true identity was beginning to dawn on Lavender. "Wait," she said uncertainly, eyeing me up. "Did she just – did she just call you Hermione?" She drew closer, like a zombified sleepwalker. "It can't be. Hermione's ugly. You're – you're really, really beautiful. You can't be her. No." But her voice was becoming more uncertain.

I bit back the laugh that was bubbling up in my throat and managed to speak. "Yeah, Lavender, it's really me. Parvati helped me out last night."

A look of shock and indignation spread over Lavender's face. "How could you, Parvati? You didn't even _tell_ me."

"Well, I wanted to keep it a surprise," Parvati admitted.

Lavender was growing hysterical. "But why did you give her a makeover and not me? I'm your best friend. I've known you for five years! We're inseparable! I mean, I know Hermione looked like a total frump before, but that doesn't mean you should just use your magic to transform her into the prettiest girl in the school! What's going to happen to me, Parvati? Did you think of that? Now everyone's going to like her better than me. Especially Ro –" she stopped mid-word and hastily tried to cover up her slip. "I mean, Rodolphus, that cute guy in Transfig. He'll _never _pay attention to me with her around. Never!"

"Calm down, Lav," Parvati soothed. "It's okay. You're beautiful enough without a makeover. In fact, I don't think a makeover would even do you much good, you're so perfect already."

Parvati's praise seemed to cool Lavender down a bit, and she stopped hyperventilating.

"I guess you're right," admitted Lavender. "I suppose some people are just _born_ with beauty." At which she shot me a scornful glance. "I don't have to use magic to make myself desirable. And by the way, Hermione, what made you go for the change? Finally decided that your miserable life needed a bit of sparkle? Tired of being looked down upon by the male species?"

"Actually," I said, my voice cold. "I made a bet with Ron. If I can break Malfoy's heart by the end of the year, Ron will publicly embarrass himself in front of the whole school. If I fail in my mission of charming Malfoy, then I'll have to kiss Ron. In front of the whole school. I was hoping that the makeover would convince Malfoy to fall for me so that I won't have to…you know. That'd be disgusting."

Lavender was looking at me in a new light. I could just see the gears spinning in her head. _If Hermione wins the bet, then Ron will embarrass himself in front of the whole school. No one will like him after that. No one but me. He'll be all mine. But...if she loses the bet…oh dear! She'll have to kiss him. And then of course, Ron will love her forever after that. I won't have a chance. Hermione has to win!_

"So…Hermione," began Lavender, her voice laced with false sweetness. "I was thinking… do you need any help with charming Malfoy? Because I'd be glad to help. The boys always fall for me. Maybe I could teach you some of my secrets."

"Really?" I asked dubiously, hardly daring to believe my luck. Queen Flirt would be able to teach me far more than any book. Heck, I'd have probably reeled in Malfoy by the end of the week if I followed her advice.

"How about we get started now?" suggested Lavender, clearing a space for us in the corner of the library. "There's no time like the present." She dragged a few chairs out of the way until there was walking room, and then she turned to face me.

"I think I'll go send Mum a letter," Parvati told both me and Lavender. "See you guys later!" She gave a cheery little wave and departed.

"Right then," said Lavender, flexing her fingers and turning back towards me as if to prepare for battle. "Let's begin, shall we?"

I nodded.

"Okay, let's start with the basics," Lavender said decisively. "What do you know about flirting?"

"Um… not much."

"Great. Just great," she moaned, slapping a hand over her forehead. "Not only do I have to teach an incompetent loser, but I also have to construct her entire knowledge of the flirtatious world. Very well, let's get on with it." She brushed her hair out of her face impatiently. "You want to know the best way to make a guy interested in you? Eye contact. It never fails, trust me. You look at a guy during the middle of class, just kind of _stare_ at him, and when he returns your glance, flash him a cute smile, hold the gaze for another second or so, then go back to whatever you were doing. Not only does it make him intrigued as to why you were looking at him, but it also makes him acknowledge you. Once a boy has really opened his eyes and actually _seen _you for the first time, lots of things tend to change. Let's practice, shall we? You go over there by Nott and pretend to be looking at a book."

My squeak of protest was suppressed by Lavender's dagger glare. "Do it," she hissed. "The sooner we get done with this, the better."

"Merlin save my soul."

"Do it!"

"Are you kidding me? This is _Nott_ we're talking about. I don't want him getting the wrong idea or – "

"DO IT!"

"Arrrgh. For the record, I hate you."

She smiled. "Fantastic. Now get yourself over there or I swear I will strangle you."

"Friendly much?" I sighed and began walking in Nott's general direction, resigning myself to fate. Lavender's threat had seemed very impending and I did not wish to meet my end at such a young age.

I inconspicuously tried to stand next to him, but far enough away so that he wouldn't really suspect anything. In my haste to get the ordeal over with, I ended up tripping over a book on the floor. Curse my awkwardness. I went spinning forward, and my jaw collided with Nott's collarbone, shooting a little surge of pain down my neck. "Ow," I muttered, trying to regain my balance. "I'm really, really sorry." But a pair of arms caught me.

Nott's face looked strange, like he was in some kind of a daze. "No, it was all my fault," he said, his eyes running over my body, making me uncomfortable. "I'm the one who should be apologizing." He was just looking at me. Staring, _staring_. With those _eyes_. I kept glancing away at random objects like the bookcase and the banana on a nearby table, but my eyes kept being drawn back to his own, like they were magnetic orbs, sparkly and swirling, sucking me in. Finally, my brain kicked in, and I remembered Lavender's advice: make eye contact. So I stopped looking away from him, and I just concentrated on studying his eyes. They were very brown, flecked with all different kinds of specks of darker and lighter browns. Eventually, he started looking uneasy. But I kept staring. Stare, stare, stare. Follow the advice. Stare. Lavender knows all. Stare. _Stare._

He smiled weakly, trying to hide his unease. "Why is it that all the hot chicks have to be psychopathic?"

"Oh, I'm not insane," I informed him, smiling hugely. "I'm just making eye contact."

"So you are."

_Stare_.

"And, um… why, may I ask, are you, uh, making eye contact?"

"Because I'm learning."

_Stare._

"Ahem… learning about what?"

"Flirting."

"Oh."

_Stare_.

"And why are you flirting?" A flicker of a smile crossed his face. "Are you interested in me or something? Cause we can go somewhere more private if you want. I know a nice broom cupboard right next to the–"

"AHHH!" I screamed, clutching a hand to my chest. "No, no, I'd rather not. Well," I said, looking at my watch, "I'd better be going now. Goodbye!" And I rushed away, leaving poor Nott looking confused beyond belief.

Lavender was crying with laughter by the time I got back. Tears of mirth were streaking down her cheeks and her shoulders were shaking with laughter. "That – that was priceless!" she choked, wiping at her eyes. "Merlin, Hermione, you sure know how to make a mess of things. I always thought you were a bit slack in the flirting area, but now I know that you are absolutely, positively, irrevocably hopeless." She collapsed into another fit of giggles.

"Was it really that bad?"

"You have no idea. Well, since this was a fail – let's try another tactic, shall we?"

"Please."

"I will now teach you another crucial move in the art of flirting," Lavender announced. "Boys can't resist you when you show off your body a bit. For example," she said, gesturing to her shirt. "Cleavage. It's fail-safe. Every boy, even if he is the most stupid, blockheaded idiot on the face of the earth, will be dying to see more. His interest may spark a few exchanged words, maybe even a conversation. If he starts talking to you, don't be shy. Guys like confident girls, ones who can hold their own in a relationship. If you prove to him that you are interesting as well as pretty, he'll be reeled in like a fish on a hook, and you know where that leads," she winked at me. "So even though this plan may fall through like last time, I think we should try it out."

"Gah," I said, shaking my head. "I can't do that. It just – it doesn't seem right, I don't know – "

Lavender shot me a look of pure annoyance and put her hands on her hips. "Just do it, okay?" she snapped. "I'm getting sick of your attitude. You said that you wanted to seduce Malfoy, right? Well here's your chance to practice! And _I'm_ the one taking the time out of _my_ day to help _you_, and you act like a timid, ungrateful little – "

"Okay, I'll do it," I said hurriedly, not wanting to hear anymore of her insults. "I need a low-cut shirt though. This one just won't do."

But Lavender was already digging through her bag. "Here you go," she said, pulling out a sparkly green tank top and thrusting it upon me. "This should do the trick. Hold it in front of you and I'll do a quick Clothes-Changing Spell."

I did as I was told, and after a muttered incantation from Lavender, I was wearing the new shirt, my old one in my hands. The green shirt was soft and comfortable; it clung to my waist and hugged all my curves just right. And of course, it was frighteningly low-cut. The edge of my bra was almost peeping out from underneath it. I tried to cover it up, but Lavender slapped my hand away.

"That's some quality lingerie right there and I will not permit you to hide it. Boys_love_ bras. In their opinion, the more that's showing, the better."

"But Lavender," I said desperately. "I don't want any of them to get the wrong idea! I don't want them thinking I'm easy or something – "

"Just listen to my advice and all will go well," Lavender said sagely, nodding her head. "Trust me, I have experience. You, on the other hand, do not. So summon up whatever guts you have, straighten your shoulders, and go on over there by Neville."

"NEVILLE?" I said, outraged. "No. I refuse. I WILL NOT show off my body to Neville."

Lavender closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then exhaled.

"Fine then. Fine. Go do whatever you want Hermione, with whomever you want, I could really care less. I'm just trying to help you here, okay? And you're making it really hard on me. So if you're really that averted to the idea of flaunting your body to Neville, there are plenty of other boys in this facility that I am sure would accept you with open arms. Now _go_. It is not time to be picky."

"Okay," I muttered, letting my eyes stray around the room. They landed on a cute, sandy-haired Hufflepuff boy who was talking to his friends in the back corner. He was smiling, and he looked nice enough…

I walked over to their table, flipping my hair and shifting my mouth into a grin. "Hi," I greeted them expectantly. "My name is Hermione Granger." I leaned forward on the table, tracing patterns on the soft, cool wood with my fingers and making sure to expose my breasts a bit. "Mind if I join you?" I asked, cocking my head to the side and letting some of my fiery red hair fall into my eyes.

I don't think they minded.

Not at all.

The sandy-haired boy looked like he couldn't believe his luck. He glanced back to his table-mates, raising his eyebrows, then looked back at me. "I think we could make an allowance," he said meaningfully. "Here, have a seat," he told me, pulling up an extra chair. "We all love meeting new friends." He gestured around the table. "The guy sitting here is Evan," he said, pointing to a cocky-looking guy with messy blonde hair and a cute smile. "He's right crazy sometimes and isn't very keen on following the rules. And sitting here," he said, pointing to a short, brown-haired boy with glasses, "is Jake. He almost never talks, but when he does, his words of wisdom are quite astounding." He smiled. "And, last but not least, I'm Chase. Chase Saunders." He eyed me up friendlily. "It's very nice to meet you, Hermione."

"It's nice to meet you too," I said pleasantly, slipping into the chair. I could feel all three boys staring hungrily at each and every one of my movements as I adjusted in the seat, crossing my long, toned legs. I could have sworn that I heard Evan let out a little moan, but it might have just been my ears playing tricks on me.

I smirked. "So…" I began, drumming my fingers on the desk, searching for a conversation topic. Then, it came to me in a brilliant flash of inspiration.

"Any of you lot play Quidditch?"

Needless to say, the next two hours of my life were occupied.

* * *

"Brilliant, Hermione," Lavender sighed later that night as we sat in the common room, talking amongst ourselves and finishing Snape's essay. "Really, I couldn't have done it better myself."

I blushed at the unexpected praise. Maybe we were starting to become friends.

"Thanks, Lav."

Her eyes flashed death.

"Don't. Call. Me. That."

Maybe _friends_ wasn't the right word.

More like "allies-on-same-side-but-at-constant-brink-of-war-with-each-other-anyways."

Yeah. That sounded just about right.

* * *

**a/n.** Back up and updating(:

Sorry about the looong wait, you guys. Feel free to kill me anytime you wish;)

xoxo,  
-Sianatra


	6. The Game Is On

"Wake up," Lavender grumbled, smacking me over the head with a pillow. "Rise and shine, Beauty Queen."

I snorted out of my restful slumber but yanked the sheets higher over my head to protect my eyes from the assault of the morning sunlight. "I am not," I informed Lavender, "getting out of bed. There is no way you can make me."

"I have a cookie."

"Wha?" I sat up in my four-poster with eager eyes. "Where?"

"There's no cookie. You ditz. You're so gullible."

"You _meanie_. You're so _evil_." I sighed and pulled the sheets off my body. As long as I was up, I might as well get ready for the day. "What made you do that, anyway?" I grumbled under my breath, sliding my feet into slippers and trudging across the room to the mirror. "I would have gotten up myself."

"I figured the mention of a sugary food would enthuse you to get up quicker. There's things to do, people to flirt with. We haven't got all day."

Rolling my eyes, I checked my reflection in the mirror. Hm. Pretty. I still hadn't quite gotten used to it. My hair, which pre-makeover had looked like a tumbleweed in the mornings, now looked almost as though I just gone to an expensive salon. There was no frizz in sight. Also, there weren't any bags under my eyes like usual. My raccoon days were over, halleluiah.

I pulled on a skirt and yanked a shirt over my head. With my new look, just about anything looked designer on me, so it wasn't particularly hard to choose outfits anymore. I pulled a pair of socks over my protesting toes and slipped my feet into shoes. New Hermione Granger was ready to take on the world.

Lavender was already dressed and waiting for me at the door. She looked as immaculate as always, her skirt smooth and wrinkle-free, her hair tamed into a silky, shining French Braid. "Ready to eat?" she asked, opening the door. "Parvati and everyone else are down there already."

I nodded and followed her out the door. The Common Room was sparsely populated. Most everyone was down at breakfast except for a few third years playing Wizard's Chess. We climbed out of the portrait hole and started walking down the corridor. A tall fourth year smiled at us as we approached him. "Hi Lavender," he said pleasantly. "And hi… gorgeous. I'm sorry, but I don't know your name."

"Hermione," I said, patting his shoulder as I walked by. "Not 'gorgeous', I'm afraid." He stumbled slightly and I smiled.

Lavender winked and linked arms with me as we continued on our way. "Now _that_," she said once we were out of earshot, "is how to get a guy. Cute comment, small physical touch. Keeps him interested. I must say, you're improving."

I flashed her a quick grin. "I'm actually living up to your standards? Wow, this must be a first."

"Never thought I'd see the day," she grumbled good-naturedly. "Come on, we have to keep up our pace. Breakfast isn't going to wait for us."

"Okay."

We walked to the Great Hall and were met with the delicious morning aroma of toast and eggs. The House Tables were almost completely full, but we found a spot next to Neville and Ron, who were animatedly discussing various brooms.

"No mate, I'm telling you, the Firebolt's the best in the business."

"Oh come on, Neville, don't be foolish. There's a new model that'll knock it right out of the Quidditch pitch."

"No way!"

"It's true, Longbottom. I heard rumors about it in class the other day. It's supposed to be called the Firestreak. Catchy, huh? I heard it can go from 0 to 60 in a quarter of a second."

"What?"

Lavender and I smiled at each other and sat down. "Hello boys," she said airily.

"Wha – oh, hi Lav," Ron said. "Hey Hermione." A faint blush was creeping up his cheeks. It was stark red in contrast to his pale skin. "Just, eh, just talking with Neville," he said amiably. "What're you two doing?"

"Eating breakfast," Lavender said rather dryly.

"Right," Ron amended quickly. "Of course you are."

Poor Neville, though he did not attempt conversation, just smiled at us apologetically, as if trying to express his sympathy over Ron's sudden and unusual bashfulness.

I grabbed a piece of toast from the platter in the center of the table. It was perfectly crisped, not black around the edges like I was used to back home. Hogwarts food was magical indeed, if not a bit heavy on the stomach. I took a thoughtful bite. "So Ron," I said, munching quietly. "I was under the assumption that you and Harry had Quidditch practice today. Has it been cancelled?"

The resident blush faded from Ron's cheeks, only to be slowly replaced with a sallow, sickly pale. He looked extremely aghast. "Oh no," he mumbled. "Harry's gonna _kill_ me." He rose abruptly from the table, gathering his belongings in a single sweep. He hefted his bookbag over his shoulder with a somewhat panicked expression. "Gotta get to the Quidditch pitch. Fourth time I'm late for practice this week, this is not good, not at all, Harry's going to murder me, he is…" He nodded his head in a distracted goodbye and sprinted away, leaving me, Neville, and Lavender in a bit of an awkward silence.

Lavender drummed her fingers on the table. Neville seemed to take the hint. "I'll – I'll just be going, then," he said, much to our relief. "Things to do. Professor Sprout needs my help in the greenhouse this morning, so I'll be off." We both waved as he walked away, breathing out identical sighs.

"Thought they would never leave," said Lavender, rolling her eyes. "We need to get to work." She analyzed me quickly. "Anything specific you want to brush up on today?"

"I believe it's more of your department to decide my flirtatious aptitudes," I said loftily, examining my nails. "Though I do think – "

"Shh!" Lavender grabbed my arm in an excited frenzy. I lost my train of thought.

"What?"

She looked like she was about to burst off the edge of her seat, propel through the ceiling, and explode into a massive fireworks show. "Merlin, Lav, what _is_ it?"

"Don't look," she muttered under her breath, clutching my arm in a steely, unshakable grasp, "but King Slytherin has just entered the building."

I sneaked a glance anyways, much to Lavender's extreme frustration.

True enough, the Prince of Darkness glided in with a gust of cold wind. Everything in the room seemed to freeze over, as if his cold heart had a hardening, frigid effect. Nah, just kidding. Malfoy didn't have ice powers. But still. I couldn't help but suppress a shiver as his eyes trained across the room, searching for something. I stayed in my seat, fighting to remain seated, fighting to curb the unexplainable urge I had to jump up and stare him in the face and scream _I'm here! It's me, Hermione, right over here!_

I bit my lip, but I couldn't tear my gaze away. This was Malfoy, the ultimate prize, the decider of my fate, the pawn of our bet. His eyes kept tearing up the room, looking, a longing look on his face, searching for something. Was it… could it be… me? In that instant, I realized I was right. He was looking for me. Not Crabbe, not Goyle, not even stupid Parkinson. _Me._ So I raised my quivering hand, trying not to look like a dunce, and waved in his direction.

Almost immediately, his eyes were drawn to me. Lavender cursed under her breath, but I ignored her, and held his gaze. He looked surprised, but not exceedingly so. There was intuition in his features that I had never seen there before, and the look he gave me was one of an equal, a challenger, not one about to back down. Of everyone, he seemed least immune to my newfound beauty. Those shapely lips (_why had I never noticed they were shapely before?_) mouthed three words.

"Game on, Granger."

And I smiled.

It was indeed on.

* * *

**a/n:** Hullo ya'll. Sorry for the wait again. New chapter will be up soon, but I need ideas. How should the game play out? Does Hermione make the first move, or does Draco beat her to it, resisting her attempts at charm? Will he cave in, a target of her seduction, or will he take it in stride and just ignore it all? Should Hermione do something drastic to gain his love? That's my personal opinion, but I'd love to hear yours.

Love potion, flirtatious bewitchment, potions, spells, flaunting, teasing... it's all up to you. Send some ideas my way, hm?

An Abundance of Kisses,  
Sianatra;)


	7. The Deal Is Sealed

"Where are you going?" Lavender hissed frantically, clawing at my arm. "Get back here!"

I detangled myself from her grasp and slowly made my way over to the Slytherin table. I felt under a trance. Malfoy's eyes drew me in, alluring and hypnotizing. I tried desperately to snap myself out of it. This was terribly, horribly wrong. I gave myself a mental slap on the wrist. _I_ was supposed to be the one seducing Malfoy, not the other way around! But my stupid, stupid feet kept moving, carried me right in front of him, so that we were standing almost nose to nose.

"I know what you're playing at, Granger," he said, a note of amusement creeping into his voice as he surveyed me. "Don't think I'm that daft."

"I don't think you're daft," I said stiffly, pretending to be ignorant. "And I have no clue what you're talking about."

He laughed, tucked a stand of my hair behind my ear. The butterflies that had as of recently been flapping around happily in my stomach now suddenly imploded. He noted my reaction and smirked, withdrawing his pale hand. "Oh yes, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Granger. Let's just say that a certain Gryffindor spilled the beans about you and Weasley's little… gamble." I frowned angrily, scuffing the ground with my shoe, and the smile on his face grew in wattage. "I must say, I do feel flattered to be in the middle of all this. It's not every day that a Slytherin finds his way into such a bet, especially one with terms such as this."

My frown grew more pronounced.

"Please, Granger, stop making a fool of yourself. This," he said, gesturing up and down at my body, "just isn't going to work. It's nice, I will admit," he flashed a grin at me, "but you just aren't really my type, know what I mean?" His rudeness made me sputter. This only seemed to increase his amusement. "I feel for you. Imagine… you're going to have to kiss Weasley, aren't you?" He made a retching noise at the back of his throat. "How absolutely mortifying."

"No," I said, shaking my head and trying to regain my composure, though I was seething. "No. _No._ I don't think it's going to work out like that at _all_. Listen to me, _Malfoy_," I commanded, drawing myself up to my full height, a measly 5"5. "You _are_ going to fall in love with me, whether you like it or not. This isn't a _game_. It's going to happen."

"What makes you think that, Granger?" His voice was easy, evasive, completely innocent. I loaded my canon. Prepared the fire.

"Spring break. I had a camera. I got it all."

"You – you _what_?" He hadn't been expecting this. A pale face turned an even whiter shade of white. "No," he said, almost to himself. "You really couldn't have possibly – "

"I did," I said, smiling up at him with as much virtuousness as possible. "And you know, school policy and all, if those pictures were to end up in the right hands, like, let's think for a minute, maybe McGonagall's, your days here at Hogwarts might just be terminated. Permanently. There may also be some wand snappage involved."

I didn't know that glares came in that particular shade of nastiness.

It was my turn to smirk now. "Guess you're stuck with me, eh Malfoy?"

"I'mgoingtokillyou."

"Hm? What was that? Couldn't quite hear you."

"I'm going to KILL you."

I gave him gooey eyes. "Oh, that's just so _sweet_." I grabbed the shoulder of a passing fourth year. "He said he's going to _kill_ me," I whispered into her ear with mock glee. "Isn't that just _wonderful_? He's the absolute _best_." The fourth year girl rolled her eyes at me and walked away, weirdo detector on full alert. I knew I looked like a loon, but I didn't really care. Everything was playing out.

Malfoy was still glaring at me when I resurfaced from my quick bout of insanity. "Angry?" I questioned quirkily. "Or just scared?" I flashed him a conspiratorial wink. "I am a good kisser, nothing to be afraid of."

He looked at me, and for the first time, I could see a hint of lust in his eyes. No matter how he tried to hide it, I knew. He knew. We both knew. There was an attraction going on here. As well as scandalous photos. It added up to the perfect romance.

"We were just destined to be together, weren't we?" he said in a high falsetto quite unlike his own. He was mimicking me. I sniggered.

"Oh darling, oh darling, never leave my side," I implored, my eyes large and doe-like. "For though while you may be but a few steps away, I shall be burning in agony in a pit of fire."

"No fear, my love, I shall never leave you. What is a man who tarries in his passion, who falters as his heart beats against him? We will be together forever."

"And ever," I reminded him, hardly managing to keep the chuckles out of my voice.

"And ever," he agreed. Surprising me, he took my hand in his and brushed it against his lips. "You're mine, Hermione."

"For the year," I said indifferently. My stomach said otherwise. Acting or not, his kiss had replaced the imploding butterflies in my stomach with imploding rabbits.

He leaned in closer. For a moment, a heart-stuttering moment, I thought he was going to kiss me, but his lips landed near my ear instead. A small pang of disappointment resounded within me, but I forced myself to listen to what Malfoy had to say.

"I want those pictures back. Or better, burned," he began. I nodded in compliance, and he continued. "If you do that, I give my word that I'll help you beat Weasley in this bet. I want to see his fall from grace too." We exchanged a quick smile, but he rapidly resumed his serious manner. "You have to promise me that you'll never let word of those pictures out to anyone. Promise. In exchange for that, I'll pretend to be in love with you. I'll play my part, you'll play yours, and when this year is over, we'll both forget anything ever happened." He linked his arms around my neck and my heartbeat quickened. "We need to seal this deal," he mused to himself. "I wonder…?"

And all of a sudden, before I even realized what was happening, his lips were on mine, hard and firm, pressing against mine with a sense of urgency. An exclamation mark resounded in my head but I kissed him back, hardly daring to believe it was true. Draco Malfoy, _kissing_ me? When just a few days ago, he had _tripped_ me? It didn't make sense, but happy to oblige, I continued the kiss. It was short, barely a few seconds, but when we broke apart, it felt like it had been an eternity. We both just sort of looked at each other for a moment.

He traced a D on my cheek with his finger. "You're mine, Hermione," he whispered, winking. And just like that, he walked away. I duly noticed that he hadn't eaten anything; all he'd done in the Great Hall was have a conversation with me and subsequently snog me.

But then he called over his shoulder.

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart, I'll have some cereal in my dormitory. See you later, honeybuns!"

We were the most dysfunctional couple I had ever seen.

* * *

**a/n:** If you can guess what Malfoy's spring break pictures were, I'll give you a million bucks. In Monopoly money, of course. =)

Love,  
Sianatra


	8. The Aftermath

Lavender exploded. "Oh my goooosh!" she cajoled, wrapping her arms around me and bouncing up and down, hyper-mode activated. "I can't belieeeeve this!" Flustered, she sat down, patting the empty seat beside her. "You actually _kissed_ Malfoy. Your _very first_ try! Oh, Hermione, I'm so proud of you! You're the best student I've _ever_ had!" She looked at me, admiration and pride swimming in her eyes.

She began absentmindedly eating something, which I realized was her napkin. I pried it away from her mouth, and she let out a sigh of thanks. "You know what?" she said suddenly, observing me. "You're a really good friend, Hermione." Once again, she wrapped her arms around me, but this time, it wasn't the embrace of teacher and student, it was the embrace of friend and friend. I smiled, and we locked eyes. Of all people, Lavender Brown… I never thought we would have been anything more than acquaintances, on good terms with each other at the most. I hugged her back. It was nice having a new friend.

But then, being Lavender, she snapped out of her more sentimental moment.

"Anyhow," she said, coughing to clear her throat. "There are, um, _things_ we must attend to now that you've made the initial step with Malfoy."

I winced. "What kind of things?" Knowing her, I was expecting she'd launch into an in-depth discussion about proper condom etiquette. But for the second time that day, she surprised me.

"I just… I don't want you getting hurt during all this, okay?" she rushed. "I had a friend who went out with Malfoy last year, and he broke her heart so bad, she had to transfer schools, she just couldn't stand being around him anymore. She was a really sweet, lively girl before, but after him… she just sort of… changed. It's happened to most everyone who's dated him, Hermione. I don't want it happening to you, too."

"I thought I was the one who was supposed to break _his _heart," I joked, though a bit panicky.

"This is serious, Hermione."

And all at once, I realized it was. Our dangerous little game was going to consume the both of us, whether we liked it or not, but only one of us was going to make it out with our head held high. I was determined that that person was going to be me, but I couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that Malfoy was still going to end up hurting me, one way or another. He was a boy who liked to play an unfair game. Cheating was his default setting. I'd have to be prepared.

But already, my mind was being plagued by images, images of the two of us laughing and holding hands, walking through the corridors, him leaning in to kiss me, me feeling that crazy, unfamiliar rush…

No.

I couldn't allow myself to think things like that. I was in this for the bet. We agreed that I'd break his heart, not the other way around. But still…

I sighed and plopped my head down into my hands. "What do I have to do, Lav?" I asked. I knew my question was vague, but I just needed an answer, something to get me through all this.

She studied me carefully. "You need to be yourself, Hermione. The best version of yourself that you can possibly be." I considered this advice for a moment, believing it good, but then Lavender dragged her trusty bag out from under the table. "Basically," she surmised, smirking, "it means you have to change into a different person entirely."

I groaned, burying my head in my hands as Lavender pulled out a slinky red dress that looked to be about a size zero. "Why do you do this to me, Lav?"

"I know what's best," she chirped merrily, tossing the dress on the table and continuing to root through her bag. "Trust me on this one, Hermione." Smiling, she dragged out a pair of dangerously high red stilettos that exactly matched the color of the dress but looked like a torture chamber for feet.

"You _seriously_ expect me to wear those?"

"Yes."

"Kidding?"

"Nope, sorry. This is your after-class attire for the day."

"You are outrageous." I examined the dress. "How am I even supposed to get myself into this thing?"

Lavender chuckled. I could tell she had experience. "Basically," she said with uncontained enthusiasm, "you expel all the air from your body until you can fit the thing around your waist, then you zip it up as fast as you can."

"Cheery little thing, aren't you?" I said irritably, observing the fabric of the dress. It was smooth, silky, and looked hideously inflexible. I considered how I was going to be able to move in it. Then I considered the fact that I'd be seeing Malfoy again after classes today. My arsenal needed everything it could get.

"And it has such a slimming effect," Lavender was chattering on happily. "It really does great things for your shape." I clamped a hand over her mouth.

"That will be enough," I informed her. "I really don't want to hear anything else about this hideous dress. Tell me more about the seduction. I think I have the beauty aspect of this down, but I don't want to get tongue-tied in front of Malfoy, know what I mean? He'd shoot me down right away."

"Definitely," Lavender said wisely, nodding her head. "I see where you're coming from. Well, Malfoy is an interesting character. He's got more brains than most people reckon, and he knows when he's falling into a trap, so you have to be careful. No guy, however," she said with a small smile, "can resist falling into the trap of the wink. It's sexy, and an instant turn on. Even if you totally stumble over what you say when you're talking to him, it won't matter, because the only thing he'll be able to remember is the wink. Let's practice, shall we?"

She swiveled her eyes so that they met mine. "First thing you have to know about winking is that it's a very refined gesture. You can only pull it off if you have a certain class. Winking is supposed to make the person of your affection feel smaller, lesser than you, which should in turn create an interesting scenario. Ever had a guy wink at you before?"

I nodded mutely. It had happened just a few minutes ago, actually, with Malfoy.

"Well then, you know how much it gets your heart racing."

Indeed I did.

"Humans have been winking at each other for hundreds of years. It's just a little thing, just a little tug of 'I'm interested', but in the long run, it makes a big deal. Try it. Wink at me."

"Hm?"

"Snap out of it, Hermione, just wink."

"I – I don't know how to wink," I said rather stupidly.

"Just try. I'm sure you'll achieve _something_."

"But I seriously don't know how to… wink. It's like a physical incapability for me."

Lavender looked at me dubiously. "You've never winked before?"

"Not even remotely."

"This is more serious than I thought," Lavender said, considering. "Well," she said after a moment's pause, "just try blinking. It's the first step of winking."

I tried. I really did. But Lavender's laughter told me I'd done it wrong.

"You looked like you were having extreme constipation. Lighten up a bit, Hermione. It's just a blink. Keep it nice and simple."

I tried again.

"Much better," Lavender praised. "That was great. It looked perfectly normal. Now this time, try blinking, but with only one eye."

I tried. Much to my surprise, while my left eye stayed wide and open, my right eyelid fluttered down, then back up again.

"Perfect!" Lavender said, giving me a congratulatory pat on the hand. "You're a natural. Keep practicing, and you'll have it down in no time flat."

I felt relived. This was good. This was very, very good. I had somewhat mastered the wink. However, I still felt uncertain about my conversational abilities. They weren't exactly in tip-top shape. "Lav…" I began hesitantly. "What am I supposed to do if he starts talking to me? I always get so nervous."

Lavender studied me. "Well, if the wink hasn't taken immediate effect… just try to be really, really sexy, Hermione. As much as possible, without going too overboard."

"What do you even _mean_?" I said desperately. "What _is_ sexy? What _is_ overboard? I'm losing my perception of everything!"

"Relax, girl," Lavender huffed impatiently. "No need to get so worked up. If the attraction is there, the charm will come, I guarantee it, and you'll be talking without a problem."

"Think so?"

"Know so. Now why don't we head off to class? I know a certain greasy-haired Potions master who won't be too happy if we're late."

"Right you are."

We both gathered up our belongings and strode out of the Great Hall, laughing and chattering all the way down to the dungeons.

I felt better than I had in a long time, and right then, in that precious, shining moment, I knew I wasn't going to let Malfoy ruin this for me.

The game was set in favor of Granger, and I wasn't going to let anything change that.

* * *

**a/n.** Back from vacation. It was lovely. New chapter should be up in a few days or so, mkay?

Love,  
Sianatra;)


	9. The Incident

"Today, class," Professor Snape drawled, "we will be focusing on the more… flippant… nature of the potion-brewing world. I'm sure you've all heard of a particular drought called… Amortentia?"

I nodded my head, but everyone else in the room looked rather confused. Snape's dark black eyes swiveled in my direction. "Care to share your knowledge with the class, Miss Granger?" he said icily. I ignored the sour tone of his voice.

"Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world," I said, recalling the text from _Potions Explained_. "It's recognizable by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen and by the fact that its steam rises in characteristic spirals. The potion smells differently to different people according to what attracts them."

"Ah, a decent answer. Yes class, as Miss Granger so _thoroughly_ explained, Amortentia is a powerful love potion, the most powerful of sorts. A drop or two and you will be instantly infatuated with whomever brewed the potion." A collective murmur rose from around the class, and Professor Snape raised his hand to quiet everyone. "A word of warning, however," he continued. "The potion, though the steps seem simple enough, is desperately dangerous if brewed incorrectly." He smirked around at us all. "There have been known explosions." The murmur was back again. Students were casting frightened glances at each other from across the room.

"There is nothing to worry about," Professor Snape said, almost impatiently. "Just brew it correctly, that's all. We wouldn't want anyone here to have a little… accident." He glanced meaningfully at Harry. "That would be most, ah, _unfortunate_. You will have an hour and a half to get a final result. Bear in mind, this potion will count as a quarter of your grade this semester. That being said, do your best to not make a mistake. You may begin."

It was a mad dash for the store cupboard, however, I was one of the first ones in. I flew across the shelves, scooping up ingredients as I went. Satisfied with my quickness, I squeezed out before I could be trampled by the hoard. Picking my way through the classroom, I found a spot near the back where I could remain undisturbed and would be able to brew my potion in peace. Smiling to myself, I plopped the ingredients down on the table and bent over to turn the heat on for my cauldron.

_Slap_.

The sound seemed to echo through the classroom, loud and mortifying. I straightened up, slowly, menacingly. Whoever had just slapped my butt was going to _pay_.

My eyes met Malfoy's, and he smiled, that devilish bad-boy smile that made me go weak at the knees.

"Saw you go over here, love. Thought I might join you."

He swooped in for a quick peck on the cheek, but instead of kissing it, he bit it softly, his teeth dragging into my skin. I whimpered, and he pulled away, that stupid _smile _still on his face. Cursing myself, I clutched the desk for support. I couldn't let him have this effect on me. I just couldn't.

"Go away," I said, even though I knew I sounded weak.

"Come now, that's no way to treat me, is it?" he said, pretending to be affronted. "I'm the love of your life. Or have you forgotten?"

I shoved him, but instead of stumbling backwards, he clutched my hands to his chest, peering into my eyes. "What a shame," he murmured. "Such a beautiful girl rejecting such a beautiful boy." His eyes flashed. "Kiss me, Granger. Now."

I struggled to get away, but he held me clamped tightly. I tried to get someone's attention, but most everyone was in the back of the store cupboard, and those with ingredients were already setting up, too intent on correctly making their potion to notice the scene unfolding in the back of the room. I caught Professor Snape's eye from across the room, but he looked away quickly, though a small smile spread over his face before he could suppress it. Anger bubbled up inside of me. _He'd been watching the whole time! What an incompetent teacher! _I struggled harder, but Malfoy's grip just grew tighter.

"Fiesty, feisty," he murmured, his face only inches away from mine now. "I never knew I'd scored such a catch when I agreed to our terms. This is my lucky day indeed."

"The terms never said you could publicly humiliate me whenever you want," I spat at him. He took it in stride.

"Yes, but the terms also never said anything about you resisting me when I publically humiliate you."

"You don't make any sense."

"Do I have to?"

"Well… yes," I spluttered, trying to pitch myself out of the confusing state he'd put me in. "When communicating linguistically, it is always best to establish a clear basis of the message that you're trying to convey – "

"Shut those bloody intelligent lips of yours and kiss me."

"Wha – um, _no_, I'm not – "

And suddenly, his lips were on mine, his hands were in my hair, and he was thrusting his tongue into my mouth like there was no tomorrow. "You're mine Granger," he whispered to me softly between kisses. "All mine."

I kind of gave up resisting because being kissed by him felt nice, almost uncannily so. Nevertheless, two kisses from a Malfoy in one day was pushing it, so I shoved the fluttery feeling all the way down to my feet where it wouldn't be able to cause any more harm and I pushed him away, hands shaking. He wiped his mouth with a finger. With horror, I realized that it was my lipgloss he was wiping off. Were we really kissing that hard? I shook my head of the thought. Of course not, that was absurd. I had better things to worry about. Like the way he was staring at me now. Angrily. Predatorily. Like he'd want to squeeze all the air out of my lungs and then continue ravaging my mouth.

And then I had something else to worry about.

A greasy-haired Potions professor with a penchant for malice.

"Care to explain what you were doing, Miss Granger?"

Of course, being the moment I was in deep trouble and all, everyone seemed to have magically gotten all of their ingredients and were now watching the scene from their respective seats. Everything was just so horribly, hideously unfair that I wanted to scream.

"Tongue-tied, Miss Granger?"

_Yes, _I wanted to yell at him. _Yes, my tongue _is _tied because your favorite little Slytherin here was just shoving his own tongue down my throat. And you watched it didn't you? You watched every second, you sick, twisted – _

"30 points from Gryffindor," Professor Snape said with finality, "for a sexual assault on an unsuspecting student. Don't let me see you do that again."

A shrill giggle came from the opposite end of the room.

God, I was going to _kill_ that Pansy Parkinson.

Everyone else, much to my relief, seemed only mildly amused by the news. Harry was grinning to himself by his cauldron, Lavender was shooting a thumbs-up in my direction, and Ron… well, Ron was sulking, but that's all he seemed to be doing these days. As Professor Snape walked away, I shot Malfoy a look that could kill, but smiling, he simply turned away and lit a fire under his cauldron rather than dropping dead in compliance with my desires. Clenching my hands into fists over and over, I stalked over to my cauldron and wrenched open my textbook.

_Step 1: Stir potion clockwise, adding Mongolian root._

I did as the directions said, though my whole body was shaking with anger. I'd only gotten into this bet to annoy Ron, but now I was starting to get pretty annoyed myself. I should have known better than to get involved with anything concerning Malfoy. As studies have shown, trouble tends to ensue. Well, it was ensuing all right. Big time.

I snuck a glance at him from behind my hair and was shocked to see him watching me, that small little smirk playing about the corners of his mouth. _Why was he doing this to me? _It's like he was the one trying to seduce _me_, not the other way around like it should have been. Frustrated, I could only watch as he blew a kiss in my direction. This were_ so_ not going as planned.

_Step 2: Let potion simmer for 3 minutes._

I let it simmer. I also let all my hatred and anger simmer, too. I was in a very simmering mood. Only a fool would have crossed my path. That particular fool would have happened to be Neville.

"Hey Hermione, got any extra Mongolian root I can borrow? I took just a bit too little from the store cuppboard…"

I bit back my tongue to refrain from unleashing the volley of curses I was preparing to hurl at Malfoy.

"Right here," I managed to say, gesturing to my table. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Neville scooped up a root and hurried back to his table. His less-than-adequate potion-brewing skills would need all the time they could get to scrape a decent grade. I almost considered helping him while I waited for my potion to simmer, but I decided against it. Professor Snape was in such a bad mood, and I didn't want him getting on Neville's case too.

A pair of hands landed on my waist. "I was just trying to help you," a voice murmured into my ear.

"You need to go away. Now."

"Don't talk to me like that, Granger," Malfoy said, his voice sounding evasive, almost sorry. "I didn't know Snape was watching. Honest."

"Can you just get away from me? Please?"

This seemed to sting him a bit. His hands retreated for a moment, but only a moment, before they returned to my sides, stroking me. It felt wonderful, actually, but I wasn't about to let him in on that.

"I think we're going to have to make another deal," I said brashly. "I don't know what your problem is, but you can't just keep doing this."

He spoke the thought I left unsaid.

"Not in public, at least."

I blushed slightly but held on to my composure. "Correct."

"But we have to keep up appearances, dearest. Surely a snog or two in the corridors won't hurt?"

_Stomp._

"Ow." Malfoy winced and glanced down at his foot. "Nice job, Granger. Hope it's not broken."

"It's not broken, you prick."

"Feels like it."

"Can we just stay on task?"

"If you really want to," he said, heaving a sigh. "But going off topic is just so much more _fun_."

_Stomp._

"Geez, I get it, woman. Go on, will you? I'll be quiet now. Just leave my poor foot alone."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you for your silence, Malfoy. _As I was saying_, I'm not going to object to a quick kiss or two, but _this_," I said, gesturing down at his wandering hands, "is certainly not going to pass." I looked at him, my eyes wide and pleading. I slapped at his hands, and he withdrew them reluctantly. "I'm a good student, Malfoy, and I don't want the teachers to start thinking of me differently because of this. We need to limit the physical."

"That'll be hard," he said, frowning and letting his eyes wander across my body.

Those blasted imploding rabbits were back with a vengeance and had caught me unawares. I fought to keep my stomach remaining in my body. It was so _difficult_. Malfoy was just so undeniably _sexy_…

I caught myself in the nick of time before I could say something stupid.

"Yes, well…" I stammered. "I was just thinking that maybe we should save the more involved stuff for later. I mean," I blushed, red spreading across my cheeks, "it's not like there will be a later or anything, you know, or any involved stuff, it's just that if we do – "

He stopped my words abruptly with a kiss. As his tongue roamed around my mouth, gentle and probing, I began to wonder if this was a habit of his, kissing girls in the middle of sentences. If it was, I figured I could get used to it. It was rather nice. I had just begun to relax into the kiss when my senses kicked in.

I truly began to believe that I was starting to lose my mind.

I pushed Malfoy away with a burst of anger. The whole scene seemed so familiar. Had this happened before? Was I having déjà vu? Or maybe pushing guys away was a habit of mine just like kissing girls in the middle of sentences was a habit of Malfoy's?

"Get _off _of me," I panted heavily, confusion marring my words. "Did you _not_ just hear anything I said a moment ago?"

"Heard you," he whispered. "Don't really care." A dangerous spark glittering in his eyes, his lips grew closer once again.

Anger boiled through me. I was not going to let this happen another time. I had to take control. Things were getting out of hand, and summoning up all my strength, I knew I had to stop this beautiful boy.

My fist found his face just as easily as it had in Third Year.

Whimpering, he stumbled backwards, clutching a hand to his now bleeding nose. "Good hit," he mumbled through the pain. "Nice form."

Professor Snape chose this moment to appear.

"Miss Granger… up to your usual mischief?"

I clenched my fists._ Clench, release. Clench, release._ The unfairness of the situation was simply overwhelming. Severus Snape was going to pay someday. He certainly was. Not now, though. Now would not be a good time, what with him admonishing me in front of the whole class and all.

"Poor, tortured little thing," he was continuing softly. "I truly feel for you. Sexual assault, and now physical assault. Looks like someone's having a bad day. 50 points from Gryffindor and a detention with me at 6:00 tonight. No arguments."

That shrill giggle again. That stupid, shrill giggle.

"SHUT UP, PANSY!" I screamed, finally losing control, swinging my arm in a wide arc. My hand collided with the books on my table and they fell to the floor, papers flying everywhere. "JUST SHUT UP, OKAY?" I knew I probably looked like a lunatic, but I didn't really care. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU AND YOU LITTLE GIGGLES, I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS STUPID CLASS, I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU, PROFESSOR, AND YOU, MALFOY, AND EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING ELSE IN THIS CASTLE THAT – "

"Enough, Miss Granger."

Snape's voice echoed through the room, cold and commanding.

I fell to my seat, mortified, covering my mouth with my hands, realizing the seriousness of my actions. "Professor, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me, I just– "

"Silence."

The whole room was quiet for a moment as Snape assessed my fate.

"I think," he said after a moment's pause, "that detention with me for the next two weeks may be an ample amount of time to curb your tongue."

I slumped back down into my seat, feeling the burn of everyone's eyes. I had made a fool of myself, I knew, and now I was paying the price.

That _stupid_ Malfoy.

He deserved death. However, much to my extreme dissatisfaction, killing was not one of my finer talents. In fact, the only thing I'd probably ever killed in my whole life was a bug or two. But that was besides the point. Bet or not, I was going to have myself a nice, steaming plate of revenge. And although it didn't involve death, I already had a devilish scheme cooking on my back burner, waiting for the perfect moment to set my Plan-Payback into motion.

* * *

**a/n:** Oh boy. Revenge is coming! Anyone got any ideas? Pranks, evil, spells, heavy flirting, love potions, poison... what's an author to do? Review with your suggestions, and your brilliant concept may very well be included in the next chapter!

xoxo,  
-Sianatra


	10. The Ploy

Smiling widely, I strutted though the corridor. In fact, strutted was actually the appropriate term, because when you're wearing four inch heels, it's almost impossible to do anything _but_ strut.

So off I strutted, feeling incredibly pleased with myself in the light of current events. I was wearing a red dress, red heels, and carrying a red purse, one that Lavender had thrust upon me before leaving the bathroom.

"You'll need it, Miss Scarlet-Shoes," she'd advised. "You know, to carry _that_." I'd slipped the small vial into the purse, nodding wisely. It wouldn't do me any good now to lose it now. Not after we'd cooked up such a dastardly scheme.

Preparation began in Potions. After being so very incorrectly admonished by my dear professor, I'd ignored Malfoy completely and slid over to the seat next to Ron, dragging my cauldron with me. For the next thirty minutes of class, I finished my potion and gave an enormous amount of help to Ron with his. For our plan to work, his potion would have to be perfect.

And it was.

By the end of the class, both our potions looked nearly identical, colorless and with smoke rising in spirals from the top. Snape had strode over, but either figuring that he couldn't harshly judge me on my perfect accomplishment or deciding that he'd already inflicted enough pain on me today, he'd moved on.

It was just enough time for me to conjure up a small vial and, without anyone noticing, procure a small amount of Ron's potion.

I made another vial for some of mine, too, but it wasn't for today. I'd pocketed it, just to have on hand, in case I'd need it in the near future. I had a good suspicion that I probably would, so it was better to be safe than sorry.

I tugged down the bottom of my dress, fretting. I hadn't checked a mirror in five minutes, and I wasn't sure how my hair looked, or if my makeup had smudged. I was going outside, where Malfoy and his friends were eating lunch, and I wanted to look as good as possible in front of all the Slytherins. It was crucial that I distract them enough so that my deed could go undetected.

Much as I tried to stop it, a smirk crept over my face. This was going to be rather brilliant.

If things went according to plan, I'd have Malfoy fawning over someone in the next five minutes or so.

And it wasn't going to be me.

Lavender had laughed so hard when I told her the plan in the bathroom after potions class, showing her the small vial. "Oh, Hermione," she'd giggled. "You were born to do this sort of thing." Because she agreed with me, even forgetting her affection for Ron, that this was going to rock socks.

It was going to put me on the upper side of the bet. I'd have both boys underneath me: Ron and Malfoy, both horribly embarrassed by the situation. If I was lucky, Ron would hate me for a bit and stop drooling over me for a while, and Malfoy… well, yes, he might hate me, but I had the idea he might find a newfound respect for me, being so crafty and all.

And if he didn't… I still had my vial of the Amortentia for emergency usage.

The best part was, he had no idea this was coming.

I walked out of the corridor and into the sunlight. I squinted. The courtyard was bright, lit up by the sun. But I could just make out a shock of pale blonde hair sitting in the distance...

Hurriedly, I walked over to the Slytherins, wasting no time. I wanted this whole thing over by History of Magic at the latest, which meant I only had two hours or so to carry out the whole plan.

"Hey, Malfoy," I said easily, plopping down onto the grass beside him. It earned a few glares from some of the Slytherins. I hoped I didn't look too ridiculous, since my ankles had kind of buckled in those darned heels when I had gone to sit. "Mind if I sit here?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, half-assessing and half-confused. After a pause, he waved his hand dismissively. "Go ahead." He raised his goblet to his lips and took a sip. "But I can't even begin to imagine why you'd want to be hanging around with us lewd bunch. Must be getting desperate, Granger. Is that pretty little face of yours ceasing to charm the fellows?"

A few of the Slytherins snickered. One wolf-whistled. I clenched my fingers into the grass to keep myself from spitting an angry remark at him.

"Just dying for your company," I said, trying to make my voice sound lusty.

"You've missed me that much in less than an hour?" Malfoy was attempting to keep his tone smooth and sarcastic, but I could tell he was impressed.

"More than you could imagine."

I leaned closer to him, so that our bodies were almost pressing against each other.

A boy laughed. "Nice catch, Draco. Can I have her once you're through with her?"

Malfoy glared. "Silence, Kerrigan. She wants me, not you, and if you know what's best for you, you'll keep your mouth shut."

Kerrigan sulked, but was silent. He went back to talking with the other boys, and for the moment, the two of us were forgotten.

Malfoy leaned closer, pressing his forehead to mine. "So you're not angry at me?" he whispered quietly, so soft that only him and I could hear his words. "I was afraid you would be, after today. I'm just," he glanced down at my body, "getting ahead of myself." My breath caught in my throat. "It's hard to stay sane around you, Granger," he continued. "Bet or no bet... I just keep wanting to kiss you. All the time."

That was all it took. I pressed myself against him, bridging the distance between our lips. He met mine hungrily, passionately, like a dog that had been waiting for leftovers and finally had been fed. His tongue slipped into my mouth with surprising agility, and that was all it took for me to elicit a small moan.

The moan brought back the attention of the other boys, and while they were busy gawking at our kiss, my fingers, deft and nimble, swiped the vial from my purse, and unseen, poured the potion into Malfoy's goblet. Guilt washed over me for a moment, but only for a moment. Smiling against his lips, I put the vial back in my purse and weaved my fingers through his hair, making him groan with pleasure.

The sound made the pit of my stomach plunge. Thrills raced down the length of my spine. I, Hermione Granger, had made a Malfoy groan. That was no ordinary feat.

When we finally broke apart, it was with victory that I smiled. "Good enough for you?"

He smirked at me appraisingly. "If I had known you were that good of a kisser, Granger, you would have been mine years ago."

The tingles started in my lower stomach region again, but before my mind could start dancing and spinning into mayhem, he took a long, thirsty sip from his goblet, and Plan Embarrass-Malfoy-And-Ron had officially been set into action.

He seemed fine for a second, but then a change became evident. His eyes were slightly more foggy, and a crease had appeared between his eyebrows.

"You okay, mate?" Zabini asked, noticing the change too.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Malfoy said slowly. "But... where is he?"

"Who, Crabbe? He's off with McGonagall, remember, didn't complete that essay she assigned - "

"No, not him," Malfoy said somewhat impatiently, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "You know... Ron." A resignedly sappy expression crossed his features. "I need to find him."

Zabini looked baffled. "Why? Are you going to try to hex him or something? If you need help, I can - "

"Just stay out of this, okay Zabini?" Malfoy said angrily. "I just... I just need him, that's all."

"If you say so," Zabini mumbled, looking down at his feet, confusion etched into every line of his face.

Malfoy swiveled his head around the rest of the Slytherins, as if daring them to challenge him, and when none of them did, his piercing grey eyes landed on me.

"You're friends with him, right Granger?" he asked me pleadingly. He stood up, brushing the dirt and grass off his robes. "Can you help me find him?"

"Of course, Malfoy," I said, trying to disguise a smirk and somewhat failing. "This way."

He followed me out of the courtyard like a little boy trailing behind his mother. "Are you sure you know where he is?" he asked, panting and trying to keep up with my long strides.

"Positive. Any plans for what you'll do when you see him?"

Malfoy blanched for a second. "No," he sputtered. "I w – wasn't really thinking about that. I just need to see him."

"Let me give you some advice," I said wisely. "Ronald Weasley is a slippery little creature. You have to get his attention immediately."

Malfoy nodded.

"As for me, I would suggest doing something really… well, _attention-grabbing_, you know what I mean. Take his hand, kiss his cheek… something to that extent."

"Okay. Is kissing on the lips good too?"

I snorted. I really couldn't help it.

"Yes, kissing on the lips is spectacular. Brilliant. Really good."

He smiled relievedly and leaned in towards me confidentially. "I don't want to make any mistakes," he whispered. "I really think I love him, Granger, and I want him to love me back."

"Then love you he shall," I declared triumphantly, straightening up and punching him lightly on the arm. "You'll do great."

He beamed at my praise and we continued walking.

Oh yes. My revenge was on its way.

* * *

**a/n.** Sorry for the wait, ya'll! Next chapter should be up sometime next week.

And oh man, those two boys are going to get it - suggestions for what goes down would be greatly appreciated. ;)

xoxo,  
Sianatra


	11. The Kiss of Revenge

We finally found Ron eating in the Great Hall, submerged behind a towering plate of mashed potatoes and steak. Malfoy clutched his hand to his heart. "There he is," he said in a voice that indicated he had never seen a more beautiful thing in his life. "There's my Ron." His eyes were full of happy tears that threatened to brim over at any second. I gave him a small shove forward, and he tripped into the room, a sappy smile on his face. A small kick in the back of his legs with my four-inch heels was all the incentive he needed to drunkenly stumble forward, knocking over a few first years in the process.

"Ron!" he called, his voice hoarse and raspy.

Ron's ginger head swiveled around in search of the person who had said his name. Idly scratching an itch behind his ear, he looked across the Great Hall until his eyes landed upon Malfoy, who was staring at him with a cheesy look of desire on his face. Ron frowned until a wide crease appeared in the middle of his forehead. "Malfoy? What's with you?"

Malfoy hurtled himself forward and launched himself into Ron's lap.

"Oh Ron," he crooned, stroking Ron's hair. "I found you!"

Ron was looking less like confused and more like extremely disturbed by this point.

"What's _with_ you?" he repeated, trying to shove Malfoy off his lap. Malfoy clung tighter.

"I thought I'd never find you," he whispered dramatically. "Thank goodness _she_ was here to help me."

Too late, I realized, he had pointed to me from across the room. I tried to slink behind the double doors, but Ron caught a glimpse of me.

"Oi!"

I pretended to look innocent, but Ron saw right through it.

"Get over here!"

Seeing no alternative, I cautiously picked my way across the room. I reached Ron's side and he tried to push Malfoy off again, but Malfoy just clung to him tighter.

"What in Merlin's name," Ron hissed between shoves, "did you _do_ to him?"

I shrugged. "Just found him like that. He said he wanted you, and I figured I'd humor him. He looks like he's in a rather unstable condition."

"_Rather_, yeah," Ron said sarcastically, pushing against Malfoy harder. "As in he should 'rather' get-off-my-lap-before-I-take-out-my-wand-and-hex-him-to-pieces? That kind of 'rather'?"

"You would never hex me," Malfoy said huskily, surprising us both, who had almost forgotten his presence. "You… you love me too much. Don't you?" He peered into Ron's eyes with unnerving admiration.

Glaring, Ron finally managed to push Malfoy off his lap. He landed to the floor with an ungraceful sort of thump and mumbled an exclamation of pain, clutching his chest. Ron turned his glare to me.

"Can you at least do something about him? I don't know what he's talking about with all this love nonsense. I don't love him."

A small howl came from the direction of the floor.

"You don't love me?"

Ron turned his eyes to a despairing-looking Malfoy who was practically dying of anguish. "Well, you're a prat," Ron said slowly and matter-of-factly, as if he was explaining something to a small child, "and in case you didn't know, I'm straight. So if you'll please bugger off and – "

But he got no further.

Malfoy had (once again) flung himself onto Ron's lap and, to put it politely, "puckered up." Or really, more like "bashed into." Lips met in a clashing of pink and red, and for a moment, the hall was silent, everyone frozen in a suspended second of existence that would no doubt be the subject of much gossip in the following weeks. But then time commenced, and Malfoy broke away from Ron, beaming.

"Do you love me now?"

Ron was so shocked he could barely talk; he just ran his fingers over his lips where the kiss had landed. It seemed he was trying to gather the courage to say something, but every time he opened his mouth, no sound would come out. Bu then finally, a few words bubbled to the surface. "No – " he croaked, his voice barely audible.

I tried to stifle my giggles. A small one escaped anyway, but Ron, intent on his quarry, was completely oblivious.

"You – get – away from me…" Ron annunciated with a sort of frenzied wrath to his tone. "I swear, I'll – I don't know what were you thinking – now everyone – everyone – "

Malfoy smiled, unaware of the extent of Ron's anger. "I love yooou," he crooned in a sing-song voice.

With murder in his eyes, Ron lunged at Malfoy, who, unsuspecting of an attack from his "lover", did not manage to duck away in time. Both boys fell to the floor, Ron on top, pinning him down.

"Ooh, this feels nice," Malfoy murmured. "Will you kiss me again, Ron?"

This seemed to send Ron over the edge.

Raising a fist over his head, he brought it crashing down on Malfoy's face. Hard.

The shrieks that came afterward were none like I'd ever heard before.

"OWOWOWOWOWOW!" Malfoy screeched, clutching a hand to his freely bleeding nose. "_OW_! Why don't you _LOVE_ me?"

Ron was merciless with his punches. Again and again, he pummeled Malfoy, whose screams were bound to be echoing throughout the castle by now. With a flash of insight, I flicked my wand at the double doors, sending the closed with a resounding _thunk_. It really wouldn't do to have teachers scrambling in here in the middle of this.

Ron finally sat back, smudges of blood smearing his hands.

"Next time you'll think before you go kissing guys who can beat you up!" he bellowed. "Next time you'll stick to those pretty Slytherins girls with their green and silver skirts and blonde hair! _Never again! _You will never kiss me again as long as you live, Malfoy, understood!"

Malfoy smiled feebly. "But I love you. That's what people do when they love each other." And slowly, deliberately, though none of us could do anything to stop it, he raised his hand to his mouth and blew Ron a kiss.

The uproar of laughter in the hall startled the three of us. Chuckles of mirth seemed to bounce off the walls. Ron was still perched on the back of his heels, but his face was red with shame now to match his bloody hands. His posture was that of a defeated man. I felt a stab of pity for him. Perhaps the joke had gone too far.

Malfoy smiled, looking incredibly amused with himself. "Did I say something funny? Why is everyone laughing?"

This brought around another round of laughter. Shaking my head, I walked over to Malfoy and yanked him off the floor.

I addressed the room.

"I'm taking him to the hospital wing," I declared loudly. "He needs treatment. And all of you – not a word of this outside these doors – understand?"

Some nodded comically, others sniggered. I knew my request for secrecy wouldn't be adhered to.

Nevertheless, I dragged Malfoy out of the room by the elbow. When we were finally out of earshot, safe in the seclusion of a dark, deserted hallway, I whispered, "Good show," to him and pulled a second vial out of my purse.

"Will that make me better?" he said hopefully, wiping a spot of blood from his face.

I pressed it into his hands. "It will make everything better. Everything."

Greedily, he uncorked it and poured its contents down his throat. He knew not what was in the vial, yet he trusted me. It was an act of either stupidity or desperation. Swallowing the last drop, he sighed and glanced up at the ceiling.

And all of a sudden, the old Malfoy was back. It was like a breath of change had swept over him, a large hand pushing him back up into rim-rod posture, his eyes glinting over with their familiar grey steel. They swiveled to land on me, and what I saw there for a moment took me by surprise. Admiration. Cruelty and hate, but yes, admiration.

"You've done well, Granger," Malfoy said, voice silky and unreadable as ever. "Once again, you have made use of that astonishing cleverness of yours." He grew closer, flattening me against a wall. I no longer held the reins here. Slight panic welled up in my chest as I realized I was defenseless here, vulnerable. Shouldn't I have thought this through more, at least been in a room with people when I gave the antidote? He could get away with murder here.

As if reading my thoughts, he whispered in to the corridor, "I'm not going to hurt you, Granger." His hands braced on the wall, trapping me inside his arms. I whimpered.

He stared at me unflinchingly. "I'm going to congratulate you."

And all of a sudden, his lips were on mine, with that same rushing, burning intensity he had kissed me with before. He wove his fingers through my hair, pulled himself closer to me, so that we were both pressed tightly against the wall, locked together by our lips. This time, it was not sweet. It was angry, smoldering, intense, a battle of passion and strength. I bit down on his hard on his lip and he let out a little cry of pain, but the he took control again, pushing me harder against the wall and letting the kiss surge us forward.

When at last, we broke apart, I had bloodstains on my face, put there from the connection of our skin.

"You're not angry?" I whispered into the darkness, clutching the wall for support.

A hand on my cheeks, wiping away a smear of blood. "I never said I wasn't angry," Malfoy spoke softly, dangerously. "In fact, if you weren't so beautiful, I may have cursed you by now."

"Are you… going to? Curse me?"

"We'll see." He let his eyes travel around my body, taking in each curve. With a sharp, quick sigh, he backed away, as if he had seen too much.

"Better watch your back, Granger. I may not curse you, but that doesn't mean I won't try to get back at you."

And with that, the darkness swallowed him whole.

* * *

**a/n.** Ooh, steamy... just the way I like it. ;)

Any of you have ideas for Malfoy's revenge? I'm totally juiced out. Should he do something crazy, or something subtle? Something romantic, or something heart-wrenching? Or maybe just something Death Eater-esque? Comment with your suggestions, please, I'd love to hear them!

xoxo, Sianatra


	12. The Detention

I trudged down the hallway, my bookbag bouncing against my legs. Time for detention – hip-hip-hoorah. But at least Malfoy got what was coming for him. I'd have the priceless look on his face to savor as I sorted vile potions ingredients or whatever loathsome task Snape wanted me to do.

Two weeks.

Not cool, Snape, not cool.

I continued to walk down the corridor. My thoughts kept returning to Malfoy, however hard I tried to push them away. Just _thinking_ about our kiss – it sent shivers down my spine. How was it possible that a boy I had once hated so much could have me enthralled like that – captivated, utterly spellbound? Why couldn't I get those grey, grey eyes out of my head?

"Late, Miss Granger."

I whipped my head up, surprised. I had already made it to the Potions Room.

"Hardly late, sir. Nothing more than a minute," I quickly said to Professor Snape.

I fiddled with the hem of my sweater, flinching under his surveying gaze. He always had a way of making me uncomfortable, nervous, even if I had done nothing wrong.

His black eyes scanned my face, and he leaned back into the doorway with a smirk. "Thinking about a certain boy aren't you?"

I blushed furiously. I'd forgotten that he could read minds. This was certainly embarrassing.

"You have no right – "

"I have every right," he said dangerously, his voice low. "You are a student of mine, Miss Granger, and I must see to it that your mind does not wander to thoughts of the more… risqué… nature." He appraised me. "You could do better than him, you know."

I sputtered for a moment. "I don't – "

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he said silkily, interrupting me. "I don't see any love in your eyes when you kiss him. Perhaps I'm simply misreading the signs, but… what you have for him… is it real?"

"We are _not_ going there," I whispered fiercely, fists clenched. "In fact, questioning students about their personal life when the situation does not pertain to an act of disrespect or misconduct is clearly started in the Hogwarts teacher rulebook. I'd watch what I was saying if I were you, Professor Snape."

"Merely curious," he said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You'll have to forgive me. A teacher never does satisfy their inquisitiveness about the relationships of their students. But much as I disapprove of _your_ relationship, Miss Granger, I have heard," he said, smiling, "that he's a _very _good kisser."

And all of a sudden, strange as it sounds, he seemed familiar.

And that hair, that greasy black hair, it started shirking, melting back into the scalp and lightening until it was so pale it was almost white.

"Malfoy," I breathed.

"You were thinking about me. I saw it in your eyes when I was talking to you."

Snape-Now-Malfoy grasped my wrist and pulled me into the classroom. "You were _thinking_ about me, Granger." His voice is full of astonishment. "And today… after we kissed… I was thinking about _you_, too." He picks me up and set me on a desk, his hands light and gentle.

I tried to push him away, but he grasped my waist tighter and leaned in close to my ear, his breath tickling my cheek. "You're trying to trick me," I said, confused. "What was the Polyjuice Potion for, then? Are you trying to get back at me?"

"Not tonight," he whispered, his voice low. Cupping my face in his hands, he kissed me softly on the lips, then harder, plunging his tongue into my mouth. His fingers trailed down my back, stroking my spine. I arched into him and let him kiss me. I could be reckless tonight. I could be wild. He was certainly wild enough. Smiling dangerously, I kissed him back, laughing into his teeth as he let out a groan. I wrapped my arms around his neck and fully surrendered, giving in to the beauty and momentum of our kiss.

Every time it was different with him. Each brush of the lips, each gentle, probing touch, it was so untamed and crazy and unique. He made me feel a million things at once; I was a thousand different colors around him, beautiful and radiant, sometimes fierce and angry, but other times gentle and kind.

He whispered something into my ear, but I couldn't hear him, I was so busy drowning in my own bliss.

"Granger," he said this time, louder, more urgently.

I opened my eyes and looked at him, struggling up from the depths of our kiss.

"What?" I managed to mumble.

He raced a finger across my cheek, his voice tender. "I have to go. He's coming."

I snapped out of my daze quickly, slipping off the desk and onto the floor. I straightened up furiously. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Relax," he said, his voice low, his hands on my waist. He kissed me gently on the lips before removing his hands and walking to the door. "He's not here yet." With a small wave, he stepped outside the door.

I listened until I heard his footsteps fade away, then I made a feeble attempt to smooth down my hair. I re-buttoned a button on my sweater that had come unclasped during our kiss and smoothed the wrinkles out of my skirt. Just in time too, because the second I had myself presentably put-together, Snape came striding in through the door.

"Right on time, Miss Granger," he said unpleasantly, as though my being on time greatly disappointed him. "Get to work." He gestured to a stack of ingredients lying on the table, and strode over to his desk. Apparently he expected me to begin immediately.

I walked over to the desk and began to sort them, putting them in order. On a sudden whim, I let loose a question that had been bubbling forth on my tongue.

"Professor? Have you – have you ever been in love?"

I winced right after asking the question, knowing it had been a rather stupid thing to say, but instead of snapping at me or punishing me, Snape just stared at me, his eyes thoughtful, and perhaps I had mistaken it, but I thought there was something else there, something that looked like sympathy.

"I have."

It was only two words, but somehow, it was enough. And even though I could think of a million other things I'd like to be doing that night, like talking with Ron and Harry or kissing Malfoy again, it was enough to bridge the gap between us, and for once, erase the hate that usually filled the air when we were around each other.

"Thank you," I whispered quietly, so softly that I was certain he couldn't hear me.

But he smiled anyway; it was a real smile, not a smirk, and however small it was, it was there.

"I wish you luck."

And in that room full of vapors and potions, I knew that I would be needing it. I knew that I was falling in far too deep.

* * *

**a/n.** How sweet! *gushes*

But revenge is on its way, you can be assured of that. I've decided what Malfoy's going to do now; any of you have a guess?;)

xoxo, Sianatra


	13. The Rejection

I was flipping tiredly through my Potions textbook at 11:00 when Ron came up behind me and plopped down next to me on the sofa, running a hand through his already messed-up ginger hair.

"Hey Hermione," he grumbled in greeting, shifting his position to get comfortable.

"Hi Ron," I said without looking up from my textbook.

"Listen. I just wanted to say…" He paused and ran a hand through his hair again, looking agitated. "I'm just not so sure anymore… about…"

I looked up from the textbook and met his eyes, eyes that looked surprisingly empty and dead. "Not so sure anymore about what?"

His face bore the look of a defeated soldier. "Not so sure about the bet," he said quietly.

I narrowed my eyes. "You can't just drop the bet. We made an agreement."

"Yeah," he argued, "but Hermione, that was before – "

"Before what?" my voice rose. "Before what, Ron?"

He scrunched his nose and stayed silent for a moment, as if talking about his thought would make it seem even more unattractive, even more hideous, but finally, he let it out in a deep, whooshing exhale. "Before Malfoy," he said, somewhat lamely.

"Malfoy has nothing to do with this."

"Mione, he has everything to do with this!" Ron exclaimed angrily.

"I'm just following the rules of the bet," I said tonelessly, flipping a page in the textbook. "In order to break his heart, I have to get close to him."

Ron closed his eyes in pain. "You don't see what he's doing to you," he murmured through quiet lips.

"He isn't doing anything to me."

Ron snorted desperately. "I see the looks you give him. I've watched you two snog. You go all different when he's around – you get funny."

I stared at him with appraising eyes. "And you're jealous."

He blushed beet-red from the tip of his nose to the tips of his ears. "No," he stammered. "I – I'm not jealous, Hermione, I just don't want – I don't want you to get hurt from this. If you think you're in love, you're wrong. If you think he loves you, you're wrong too. There is no love, or anything like it, in your relationship."

"And how would you know that?" I snapped. "Just stay out of my business, Ronald."

"I can't stay out of your business," Ron said quietly, sounding hurt. "You're my friend, Hermione."

"Well if I'm your friend, then _as __friends_, I'm asking you to leave me alone about this whole issue."

"It wouldn't be an issue if you just dropped the bet," Ron pleaded. "You don't have to go through with this. We can just pretend it never happened."

I stared off into the distance, a faraway expression on my face. "I don't think I'll be able to do that."

It was quiet in the room for a minute. Neither of us spoke for a few moments, and the only sound was the scratching of quills as other Gryffindor students struggled to complete long-overdue essays and homework for various teachers.

"I – I feel like I'm losing you to him," Ron said suddenly, his voice choking. He reached out a hand to touch my cheek and I shied away instinctively. He dropped his hands as though he had been burned.

"You're just so beautiful," he whispered. "You're so beautiful and I never saw it, not for all these years. And then it came to me, when I first saw you kissing him. Something stirred inside of me. It leapt up and smashed against my heart and tugged on my stomach and I finally _got_ it." He looked at me straight in the eyes. "I _want_ you, Hermione. I want you to forget about him. Let's just make it like the old days again, just you and me and Harry. Please let's just get Malfoy out of the picture." He balled up his hand into a fist, clenching it as if imagining squeezing Malfoy's neck. He opened his hand and then closed it again, his expression tired and worn. "Please just choose me over him."

A part of me wanted to say yes. After all, this was Ron, and he was my friend, and I knew he would never treat me badly, but still, the other part of me, the bigger part, told me that I would never be happy with him, not happy in the way that I could be with Malfoy. Somewhere deep inside me, I longed for wildness and recklessness, something that my safe Ron, a friend for so long, would not be able to provide.

"No," I said simply, sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Ron, but no."

He looked shocked for a moment, taken aback, as though this wasn't that answer he had been expecting. "What?" he said. I could tell he was struggling to keep the hurt and outrage out of his voice.

"I love you, Ron," I said. I corrected myself when I heard his sharp intake of breath. "I mean, I love you as a friend." His eyes found their downcast clouds again. "I don't need… I don't want that with you." I try to make my voice as kind as possible. "We've been friends as long as I can remember. You're like a brother to me. Only a brother. Nothing more than that. I don't know if I could love you that way."

"But I could love you that way," Ron said, his voice coming out ragged with desperation and begging. "I could love you so much, Hermione. You're my world."

I looked at him wonderingly. "If I'm your world like you say, then why has it taken you so long to realize it? Is it only because I'm "pretty" now? Is it only because someone else has finally taken an interest in me?" My voice flared up a little, no matter how hard I tried to keep it down. "Well too bad, Ronald, but you waited too long."

I could tell my words hurt him because he flinched back and looked like he had been stung. "I thought…"

"You thought wrong."

Another moment dragged by in indefinable silence. We both stared away from each other, at random patches of floor, at dust motes spiraling towards the ceiling.

Ron's sigh broke the quiet. "Can I just try something?" His voice was tired, beyond defeat. He sounded as if he has been dragged for miles behind a car, bumping along on rocks and being pierced in the heart by sticks and thorns.

I had a feeling I knew what he wanted to try, but I was okay with it.

"It's fine," I consented, giving him permission.

Slowly, almost lethargically, he moved next to me on the couch and lowered his face to mine. Our lips met for a second. It was barely a second, and when he moved away, I wasn't even sure they had really touched, or if it had just been my imagination. There had been no spark, no sizzle like with Malfoy. Nothing stirred in my heart and I didn't get imploding rabbits in my stomach, not even imploding butterflies or crickets or ants or even _atoms_. There was just –

"Nothing," Ron said dejectedly, mirroring my thoughts exactly. "Nothing."

He stood up from the couch with a weariness I had never seen before in him. "Goodnight, Hermione," he said with finality. "Just please," he added, eyes downcast. "Don't let him hurt you. If he hurts you…" He looked around wildly, as if looking for something that he might be able to seize and throw at Malfoy's head. "Just – just don't get hurt, okay?" he rushed. "I don't want that for you."

He turned quickly and walked briskly up the stairs to his dormitory. I thought I heard a muffled sob, but I wasn't sure.

God, I felt like a heartless creature.

* * *

**a/n.** Aw, Ron! I felt so bad to do that to him, but... it had to happen. Hrm. :/

I'm at a bit of a stumbling block here, rather unsure where to take the plot - curse that writer's block! Suggestions anyone? I'm still trying to think of a really good revenge for Malfoy to do to Hermione. Leave a comment in your review and I'll try to incorporate it into the next chapter.

Farewell, dears!

-Sianatra(: xoxo


	14. The Revenge

I took a bite of my waffle as I listened to Professor McGonagall's voice echo magically throughout the Great Hall. It was morning announcements time, and the hall was filled with students. I spotted Malfoy's pale blonde head as he talked and laughed with Crabbe and Goyle, completely ignoring the announcements. I frowned slightly and focused my attention back on Professor McGonagall.

"The Quidditch Match next week is to be held at 3:00 in the afternoon after classes," she declared to the few students listening to her. "It's Gryffindor against Slytherin, so the competition should be… eventful." She cleared her throat. "Also, Professor Dumbledore has asked me to inform you all that the Autumn Dance is on fast approach. It would be wise indeed to find a suitable partner now and not dillydally until the moment is lost."

Professor McGonagall shifted her gaze and looked uncomfortable for a few seconds. "It also must be noted," she continued, somewhat hesitantly, "that a pair of women's… undergarments… have been found hanging on the knocker to Professor Dumbledore's office. If any student with the initials H.G is missing a pair of leopard-print panties, it would be prudent for them to reclaim their missing garment at their earliest convenience."

Almost simultaneously, the hall that had just been filled with laughter and happy chatter turned dead silent.

He got his revenge. He got it good. I was the only one with the initials H.G in the entire school, so without a doubt, he knew his plan would work.

I could literally hear every disbelieving giggle; I could literally feel every eye turn to me - most triumphant of all was a pair of cold grey eyes that were laced with a silent, calculating sort of mirth.

_Malfoy. _

_Curse that boy._

I dizzily resolved to kill him someday as the hall swam before my eyes and I slumped down into the blackness of sheer embarrassment.

* * *

**a/n.** Moral of the story: Never mess with a Malfoy. Ever. They'll even use your own underwear against you.

Reactions anyone?(:

xoxo, Sianatra


	15. The Collision

"Malfoy! Malfoy! Slow down!"

My agitated feet pounded on the stone floor and I probably looked like an idiot as I staggered towards him, buried under the weight of my book bag and a whole hoard of books I had just checked out from the library, but I kept walking nonetheless, chasing after his platinum head like a girl on a mission.

"Malfoy! Urgh, slow down, you prick…"

My foot caught on a loose stone, and being the deliciously coordinated person I am, I tripped and went spilling to the ground, paper and books and miscellaneous items flying in all directions. I narrowed my eyes in frustration as I shuffled the papers back into their proper order and hefted the giant stack of books back onto my arms. I stood up, and a tall Hufflepuff boy walked by with a lazy, enigmatic smile on his face. He bent down to pick up a book I had dropped and set it back on top of my pile.

"There you go, cutie," he said pleasantly.

I glared at him, somehow managed to free one of my hands, grabbed the book right off the top of the pile, and smacked him in the face with it.

"Word of advice," I snapped. "Don't call me "cutie". Ever. And especially not when I have better things to do."

Frowning at me behind his hand, he let out a muffled curse as I sped away. I silently admonished him, letting my brain run rampant with certain rude words.

Stupid boy. He'd made me lose sight of my target.

I took off running, since this seemed like the sensible thing to do. The corridor was basically empty, and I had to catch up to Malfoy. Had to. It was a necessity. I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to do when I got to him, or if I even had a slightly feasible plan of action, but I did know that he was going to pay, and that nothing would stop me from inflicting whatever revenge I could.

This was the part of me that scared even myself. This wild, reckless Hermione. I hadn't really known that it existed, not until the whole thing with Malfoy started. But now that I knew about it, I decided that the best thing to do would be to embrace it – live in the moment, no regrets, blahblah.

"MALFOY!"

I spotted his blonde head dipping along at the corner of the corridor, about to turn into another hallway.

"MALFOY, DO YOU EVEN HEAR ME, YOU IDIOT?"

I sprinted closer, until I was only a few yards away.

At this point, Malfoy turned around, and upon finally seeing me, charging towards him like an angered bull, his face grew paler, or perhaps it was just my imagination; but nevertheless, the confident, blasé smile disappeared from his face.

"Granger?" His voice was pointed, questioning.

He didn't get to say any more before I rammed into him.

I heard a small, silent _ooof_ as leather-bound volumes smacked into Pureblood bone. It was a small, satisfying crunch, until I realized that I was going down too, something I had not intended.

Momentum in all its loveliness brought us crashing down to the floor. I landed in a heap on top of his form, and my books, already tired and worn from their spill just previous seconds ago, scattered all about the ground in frantic disarray.

A quiet groan came from underneath me as my head thunked down onto something warm and cushion-like. Ah. Thank goodness my most precious organ landed on something soft. Grumbling, I rolled over onto the floor next to Malfoy. Wincing at the sudden pain in my arm, I looked at him from out of the corner of my eye. He had his eyes closed and seemed to be wheezing.

"Why – " he wheezed, "is it – that you always – manage to – hurt me – one way or another?"

"It's what I do," I replied. I straggled to my feet dizzily. When I had finally reached my full height, dark black spots clouded my vision for a second. "Owowow," I said, smacking a palm against my forehead.

"You think _you__'__re_ in pain?" Malfoy moaned from the floor. "You're not the one who just had a 200-pound girl land of top of him!"

Taken aback, I looked up from examining my throbbing arm. Outrage spat sparks in my eyes. "I am not 200 pounds!" I screeched. "How dare you! I've only been 130 at my heaviest, and that was a while ago! How _dare_ you!"

Anger compelled me to stomp over to his side.

His eyes flashed with terror the second before I did it. "No – not the – " he gasped, but it was too late.

Triumphant Hermione jammed the heel of her foot down into the soft fleshy Malfoy stomach.

His reaction was rather amusing, if you're one for that sort of thing. Imagine a cat chasing a mouse. Now imagine that the cat catches the mouse. Now imagine that the mouse is made out of the same material as a sponge, and that when it is dipped into water, it seems to expand and shrink inward both at the same time, its eyes bulging and its little spongy mouth emitting squeaks of pain and horror. Well, I was the cat, and the mouse was Malfoy.

Let's just say that he screamed louder than I've ever heard any person, male or female, scream in my life.

"GRANGER!" He curled up into the fetal position, moaning like a drunken adolescent, clutching his stomach as his face contorted into some of the most vivid expressions of pain I have ever seen.

"You really shouldn't mess with me, you know," I said wisely. I bent over and patted him on the head.

He clenched his pale, white lips together and tried to say something in reply, but seeming to be in too much pain, he gave up, closing his clouded eyes.

I glanced back down at my injured arm. It wasn't too bad, just a mild scrape. Blood dripped down from it, though. A small puddle was beginning to form on the floor. I pulled out my wand with the intention of performing a Healing Spell, but then I got a better idea. A good one. An idea that only Hermione Granger could devise. Grinning, I leaned over Malfoy and bent down close to his ear.

"I'm not going to hurt you again, okay?" I said to reassure him, trying to keep laughter out of my voice. "Just stay still."

He nodded slightly, but I don't think he would have been able to resist anyway.

Slowly, my fingers found the bottom of his shirt. I tugged upward, freeing it from his pants. Slowly, I pulled it over his chest and neck, then finally, over his head.

He moaned slightly. Oh, was I hurting him? Too bad.

I only gave myself a second to study his marvelously toned body before I turned my attention to the task at hand. Couldn't let myself get distracted. Not by him. Especially not by his abs.

Gently, I ran a finger over my scrape. A small bit of blood came off on it, bearing the consistency of paint. Smiling, I leaned over his now shirtless form and began to write.

I left him there wheezing and panting, and my victory was secured, at least for some time. On his chest, I wrote triumphant words, and those words stood to mock him even more than his pain.

_HERMIONE __WINS _were the words I drew onto his skin, and they would stay there, etched into his memory, long after the blood rinsed off.

I hope people saw him there in the corridor after I left. I hope they judged him, and I hope he got what was coming for him.

He deserved it.

* * *

**a/n.** You all probably hate me, right? It's been like a month, I'm so sorry! But i hope that this chapter satisfied you, and has you wanting more! I'll try to post again soon - Winter Break is on quick approach, and you know what that means - lots of writing time! Yippe!

xoxo,  
~Sarah


	16. The Neville Way

"Your eyes are red," Neville duly noted. "Haven't been crying, have you, Hermione?"

We were sitting outside by the lake with pumpkin juice in our hands, a product of him meeting me outside of the Herbology greenhouse when I'd taken to wandering out of doors after my assault on Malfoy. It had confused him as to why I had blood dripping down my arm and a strange, frantic sort of expression in my eyes, so he'd coerced me into telling him the reason. Upon hearing said reason, he'd became greatly disturbed and ordered that we sit down and talk at once. That was the way it was with Neville. He was just such a gentle, kindly person that he never took the time to care about himself. He was always there to listen to other people's problems, and he was such a good listener, always the open ear. I found myself blubbering out all my worries to him.

"I was crying," I said, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. "Yes, Neville, I was crying; you are correct. And you know why I was crying?"

"Well, Malfoy, right?" he ventured.

I heaved an impressive sigh and took a sip of my pumpkin juice. The taste was hot and warm, and it trickled down my throat, giving me the strength to say what I needed to say.

"Not just Malfoy," I told him. "Everything. This whole world." I glanced around us at the lake. It waved up at me sleepily, its waters lapping at the small, muddy shore. "Sometimes it seems like we're just ripples, you know?" I continued. "Like ripples in a lake. And bad things happen to us. And even though we're made of water, we don't feel like the other water in the lake, even though we're all in the same lake. And it's hard, you know? It's hard to be that lonely ripple."

I took a dramatic swig of my pumpkin juice and locked eyes with Neville. "And I have never once seen the Giant Squid. They tell me it exists, but I've never seen it. So now not only have I never seen the Giant Squid, which means I have to put my trust in people who say they have, but I'm also just an insignificant ripple, and I just keep getting smaller and smaller, you know, and I think maybe one day, I'm just not going to be there at all, because I'll just have fizzled out from the sheer confusion and mayhem of believing and disbelieving and putting my trust in others, and _I will no longer be a ripple_." I eyed him, quite aware that the words that had just come tumbling forth from my mouth would be guaranteed to get me a one-way ticket to the nearest mental institution if they had been recorded. "What do you think, Neville?"

He cleared his throat and looked at me rather worriedly. "Just before I say anything, Hermione, I have to ask, sorry, but – are you on anything? Like a drug or something?"

I sighed. "No drugs. Never done them in my life, never will. I think I can attribute my feelings right now to a very eminent mental breakdown rather than noxious substances."

"There's the Hermione I know," Neville said, grinning. "What does noxious even mean? No, don't tell me," he said hastily as I opened my mouth to spew out the definition. "I'd rather not know." He took a contemplative sip of his pumpkin juice and looked out over the water.

"Truth be told, Hermione, I'm a bit worried for you," he said after some time. "Not for your sanity, because I'm pretty sure that will stay intact for some time after this, but I'm worried for your heart." He surveyed me. "From what you've told me so far about Malfoy, I'm inferring that your heart's been trampled quite a bit in the past few weeks, hasn't it?"

"Trampled is a bit of an understatement," I muttered lowly, almost only to myself.

"Why are you letting him do this to you? You don't deserve this, Hermione." Neville's voice was so earnest that it sent a little pang of sorrow through my heart.

"But the bet – "

"Blow off the bet. If this whole thing is affecting you so much, then it isn't worth it. He isn't worth it."

"But I can't stop thinking about him," I griped agitatedly. "There's just something about him, something that I can't explain – and I don't know what it is, if it's love or not, or if it's just a matured type of hatred and longing all mixed up into one, but I have feelings for him, no matter how strange or ridiculous or traitorous that may sound."

"It doesn't sound traitorous," Neville assured me. "Believe me, Hermione, you are one of the only people in the world who I would believe to always be loyal, no matter what. Having these feelings for Malfoy doesn't make you a different person, or even in the general realm of being a traitor. If you feel it, then you feel it, and that's all there is to it."

"You're so wise," I said wonderingly, staring at him. "When did you get to be so philosophic?"

He blushed a little and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Most of the stuff coming out of my mouth is stuff Grams has told me over the years." He shrugged lightly. "I just remember her advice really easily, and I'm good at relaying it on."

I nod appreciatively. "Well, make sure to tell her thanks from me."

"I will."

A moment stretched by.

"Tell me what I should do, Neville."

At that moment, his were the only words I wanted to hear, and the only ones I trusted. If he told me to go eat myself sick in the Great Hall to cure whatever strange sickness and depression of the mind that was ailing me, I would do it. If he told me to walk over to Malfoy and punch him square in the face (again), I would do it. In essence, I was handing him the reins, and I was giving them to him willingly. Whatever he said, I would obey. I really wasn't expecting what came out of his mouth, though.

"I think you should go to the Autumn Ball with him."

"Come again?" I said, not quite sure if I had heard him correctly. Maybe he'd said 'I think you should eat a pinecone in the fall with him', or perhaps 'I think you should row to the totem pole with him'. But I think I heard him correctly. My theory was proven when he repeated himself for a second time.

"I think you should go to the Autumn Ball with him."

I examined Neville's eyes for any trace of deceit or foul play. None there. I didn't think he was trying to trick me, and he was Neville after all. What he said was what he meant.

"Okay..." I said slowly, trying to wrap my head around the idea. "What makes you think that I should do that?"

"I'm not sure, Hermione," he said honestly. "The idea just sort of occurred to me - I've been thinking about the ball a lot lately, and it's been on my mind since I've been pondering over asking - well," he stopped mid-sentence, turning a deep shade of red. "You don't really need to know that. But what it comes down to is that I think the Ball would be a perfect time for you and Malfoy to find out your feelings for each other."

He shook his head slightly. "I wouldn't be telling you this if I didn't think he has feelings for you too. Because he does, Hermione, and I know it. I watch the two of you sometimes, when you're around each other. The way he looks at you... it's the same way that Harry looks at Ginny sometimes. His eyes just get so full, and so happy, even though he tries to contain it. That's what Malfoy's eyes do sometimes when he looks at you. The expression is there for a second, then he hides it, but he can't pretend that it was never there."

"Woah," I said slowly. The information was a lot to take in. "Woah," I repeated again, probably sounding stupid. "He really - I mean, honestly he - "

"He does," Neville affirmed. "I don't know exactly what it is about you, Hermione, but something draws him in like a magnet."

"Has it always been like that?" I whispered, slightly mortified that Neville seemed to know more about my love life than I did myself.

"You've been blind all this time, haven't you?" he joked lightly. "Hermione, the boy has a major crush on you, though he'll never say so for fear of his reputation, and basically his life at that. He's liked you for a while now. I think it was sometime in third year, after you punched him. I'm pretty sure he gained a lot of respect for you then."

"Oh my gosh."

"Yeah. I thought you knew, though!"

"No idea," I whispered through my teeth.

He cast me a sympathetic glance. "Oh, Hermione. I wish I could just fix things for you. Wouldn't it be nice if there was some sort of spell that could just repair everything bad that's happened to us and turn it into good?"

"Someone should really invent something like that one day," I mused quietly, brooding over what had just been revealed to me about Malfoy. How had I never known? How had I never even gotten a single clue? A picture of his smirking face flashed through my mind and I shivered, despite the fact that it was only about 60 degrees outside and perfectly comfortable.

All of a sudden, my emotions made sense. I liked Malfoy too. And not just for his looks or his smirks or his air of danger; I liked him because he liked me, and because of all the little flaws he had, and because for once, I wanted to do something reckless, and he was my ticket to that world of recklessness. I imagined his lips on mine again, and that shiver raced down my spine for a second time.

"Time to make a plan," I announced to Neville. "I am of complete agreement with you here. But if I'm going to go to the Autumn Ball with Malfoy, we're going to have to work out a few kinks."

"Ah yes," Neville said, smiling. "The last time you saw him, you ran into him and then delivered a mighty kick to his abdominal region, am I correct?"

"Regrettably so."

"Well, in that case," Neville said, his eyes shining with a type of mischief I was unaware that he possessed, "we're just going to have to do something drastic, aren't we?"

"That's my new favorite way of doing things," I said with a Malfoy-worthy smirk. "Drastic has been seeming to work for me nowadays."

* * *

**a/n.** Oh wow, an actual update within less than a week! Applause for me, no? *cheers*

And so the Autumn Ball idea, eh? Who would've thought that I'd bring THAT up again! Thoughts on it? Comments? How do you want it to turn out? And how is my poor little Hermione going to convince the now very likely_ severley _mentally and physically drained Malfoy that going to the ball with her is a good idea, and not just an opportunity for him to get hurt again? I'd love to know. I have no idea myself! I was thinking a letter, but that may prove to be ineffective, as most letters are. So perhaps blackmail may better suit the name of this game. Or perhaps she'll just bake him cookies and all will be healed. Everyone knows that the universal remdy for all ails are cookies. It's basically a fact. Basically.

Love you, my darlings!

xoxo,  
~Sianatra


	17. The Cooking

The plan was in motion. The wheels were rolling. The flour was on the table and there was no way we were turning back now.

"Let's do this," I said gravely.

"Right here with you."

"Whisk?"

"Of course." He passed it over, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You sure are serious about this Hermione."

"Neville, these cookies must be perfect." I thought, then corrected myself. "No, they must be _better than perfect. _Only the most amazing cookies in the world will be able to bring any hope of amity to this scarred Granger-Malfoy relationship."

"Whatever you say."

Neville shrugged and cracked an egg on the table. "I'm starting to think you're a bit crazy, but I'm just going to follow you along here." He thought for a moment. "But why exactly are we in the kitchen, anyway? Couldn't we just get some cookies from the house elves?"

"No, certainly not," I said, shaking my head as I whipped the batter into a frenzy. "When delivering cookies to someone you want to forgive you, they had definitely better be made by your own two hands. It's like a rule, Neville. It just can't be ignored. And plus," I grinned up at him, "making cookies is actually pretty _fun._"

He rolled his eyes lightly and stared up at the ceiling, high and arched, a few windows poking through to shine down light. We were in the Hogwarts kitchen, much credit to Fred and George, who had actually managed to come in handy after all their tireless years of wearing me down to no end. I swear, they must have known every single secret passage in the castle. But not that I was complaining, especially not now. It had been considerably kind of them to bequeath the secret of the kitchen to me. At first I had wondered whether they had told me just because they wanted to help me out with getting on Ron's nerves with this whole Malfoy thing, but then I came to the realization that it had been my beauty transformation which had been their undoing. It kind of bothered me, how people were so willing to help me out now that I was pretty. Like just associating with me or doing me a favor would make some of my looks rub off on them.

Without realizing it, my fingers tightened around the whisk.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Neville asked.

"Not really," I muttered through gritted teeth.

Confusion flashed across his face for a moment, and I immediately felt bad. I must have been baffling him so much with my continual changes between happy and sad. It was like an emotional rollercoaster, except I was stuck in the seat and kept having to ride it over and over.

"Um… anything I can do to help?" he ventured somewhat timidly.

I thought for a moment about snapping at him, but then I reprimanded myself and bit back the insult. This was not Ron, who I so loved to verbally abuse, and this was not Harry, who took criticism with a grain of salt. This was Neville, and I abashed my mind for even thinking about firing an offense his way.

My answer took a little while to come. "I'm just not sure of anything anymore," I finally admitted to him. "I feel almost like I'm becoming a different person. I mean, look at me!" I said, grabbing a fistful of my hair and gesturing at it wildly. "It's _red_! Look at my face – it's flawless! It's like I put on a mask and the real Hermione is slowly slipping away inside, growing smaller and smaller."

Neville just stared on.

"Whenever I talk to people now, I'm never sure if they like me for who I am, or for who I am on the outside. What if all my new beauty just evaporated, and I went back to being the same old Hermione that everyone once knew? Would I just be folded back into the curtain, ignored once again?" Bitterness seeped into my voice as I said, "And the funny thing about all this is that I've actually started to believe that this is really me, when it's not. It's just not… me."

I looked up at Neville. "Tell me," I said, "is the only reason you're helping me with this because I'm different now? It is because I'm attractive now, and more desirable, and – "

I was cut off short as Neville took a step closer and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a soft hug.

"Don't think that way, Hermione," he told me gently, running his hand down my hair. It felt reassuring. "I would never… try to take advantage of you like that. I'm here because you're my friend. And I know that you're in need of help right now."

I pulled away and stared at him. He looked so kind, that simple smile of his gracing his face. And I knew that he wasn't lying.

"You're the best Neville," I said. "Really, you are."

He ducked his head, a faint pink spreading across his cheeks. "It's no problem," he mumbled. "It's what anyone would do."

"No. It's not. You've been such a good friend to me." I looked at him appreciatively. "I don't know how I can repay you."

"Let's just make the best cookies the world has ever seen," he said with a grin. "We are going to assault Malfoy's stomach with deliciousness instead of violence."

"I should hope so."

We stirred on with our whisks as we continued to develop our plan, and for once, I was actually full of the hope that things might work out after all. I mean, honestly, it would be like a sin to reject chocolate chip cookies. A _sin. _It was almost like a last resort, too, because if Malfoy turned up the cookies, then I would probably be out of luck as well.

I just hoped that he liked food as much as I did.

* * *

**Malfoy's POV**

"What are you doing, Crabbe?" I snapped.

He looked immediately baffled and regretful, as if caught in the act of doing something wrong. "I'm supposed to… give this to you." He extended his hand and passed me a container. "Here you go, Malfoy."

I stared up at him in disgust. "Get away."

The corner of his mouth twitched down and off he skulked, going to do who knew what.

I examined the package in my hands. It was wrapped quite nicely, I had to admit. But who would be sending me a present?

Curious, I dug into the wrapping and peeled it all away until the thing inside emerged. Once I saw it, my lips curled upward into a grin.

"Granger sent me cookies," I said placidly, almost to myself. "Hm."

I cracked open the lid of the container and obtained a cookie. I observed it for a moment, hesitating before I put it in my mouth. But then I took a bite, deciding it wasn't cursed. She wouldn't do that. She was the type of witch who would never stoop that low, I was almost certain.

I was pleasantly surprised by the taste of the cookie as flavor exploded in my mouth. Chocolate chip; my favorite. And quite a good deal better than the Hogwarts cookies. Uncommonly good, in fact.

It was when I was reaching for a second cookie that I noticed the note taped to the contained. Smirking, I pulled it off, opened it, and read what it said.

...

_Dearest, dearest, dearest Malfoy,_

_My sincerest apologies for all the injury I have inflicted upon you. Hopefully it isn't too late for our disagreements to be remedied?_

_You. Me. Autumn Ball._

_Think it could happen?_

_-Hermione_

_P.S. (Hope you like the cookies.)_

_..._

As I took a bite of the second cookie, I had no doubt in my mind that this girl was going to drive me insane one day.

But at least I would be moderately well-fed.

* * *

**a/n.** I am so totally the most terrible person in the world. I've left you all hanging for so long! Ugh. This is terrible, I'm really sorry. But with it being spring break and all, I decided to give an update. Hopefully I'll be able to add more soon!

I just really wish I knew where I was going with the plot. Kind of at a standstill here, heh. Any suggestions would be really appreciated!

xoxo,  
Sarah(:


	18. The Adorability

"So," I said. "Is that a brilliant idea or not?" I felt quite pleased with myself. He apparently thought otherwise.

"Granger, that's stupid," he said in disgust.

We were sitting by the lake talking about how we were going to make everyone believe that we were in love. And we couldn't seem to agree on much, unfortunately.

"Here, how about this," he said. "Why don't we just walk around everywhere and snog each other like mad? Then people would know that we were definitely an item."

"That is so... boyish of you," I disagreed, energetically shaking my head. "No way, okay? It would make me seem totally easy. We have to develop this relationship in a more... subtle way. We have to figure out something that works for us without seeming too obvious, fake, or rehearsed."

"I don't know about obvious, but I know how to make it seem real and unrehearsed," Malfoy said passively.

"How?" I asked, curious.

"Oh... you know. Something like this." He leaned over and gently pressed his lips against mine.

_Those butterflies again._

How the heck was I supposed to act like I didn't enjoy this even when it was so blatantly apparent that I was loving every second of it?

I let him kiss me for about 10 seconds before I broke away.

"Well... maybe kissing often wouldn't be too bad of an idea," I said, blushing just a little.

"Ah, so the truth comes out," he said, grinning. "You _like_ it when I kiss you. You like it a lot!"

He made to kiss me again, but I swatted him away. "No. No more. Do you men ever know when to stop?"

"Unfortunately no. But we still try, so you must commend us for that."

I sniggered. "You are Draco Malfoy. I'm not sure if anyone commends you for anything."

He pouted his lower lip, pretending to look hurt. "This is an unfair accusation," he protested. "People like me."

I laughed. "Like who?"

"Like..." He visibly struggled for a moment, trying to actually think of someone. It turned out that when he put his mind to it, it was quite hard to conjure up a list, or even a name, of a person who liked him. But then one did come tumbling forth from his lips.

"You."

I stared at him skeptically. A bird flew overhead and cast its shadow over us momentarily. I broke his gazed and stared off over the water, then turned my eyes back to him.

"You think I like you?"

His voice took on that droll note. "It's just a little more than obvious, darling."

My cheeks flushed red at his casual use of the endearment. "I - I don't - for your information, I really - "

"Shh," he said, looking amused. "Don't get all affronted. We both know it's true, don't we?"

A long moment passed between us as I stared at him. He had nice eyelashes; I had never noticed before.

"Yes," I said finally. "It really just can't be helped, I suppose."

I'm sure that on the inside, he was doing his Malfoy-rendition of a fistpump, but his exterior remained calm spare for a tugging at the corner of his lip.

"You are really quite cute, Granger," he said.

And there he went. With those lips again. Leaning forward.

"Will you cut it out?" I said somewhat frustratedly, shoving him away. "There is this thing called personal space, you know, and you seem to completely disregard it at every chance you get."

"Well, I am a Malfoy," he reminded me. "We don't think much of personal space."

"Or hygiene, apparently."

"What?"

"I can smell you from miles."

He looked worried for a second. "But I showered this morning. Seriously, I used soap and everything - "

"Hey. Malfoy. Just kidding." I stared up at him with condescending eyes. "You can take a joke, right? Or are you just too high-strung to recognize sarcasm when you see it?"

"Well... I thought that you were actually insulting me or something. You do tend to do that a lot, Granger, I must say."

"Just as often as you try to kiss me? Because that happens an awful lot too."

He gazed at me intently. "But at least I have a justifiable reason."

_Those eyes. That silky voice._

"You're kind of gorgeous, Hermione."

Breath caught in throat. Inability to breathe. Happiness flooded every morsel of the body.

_He said my name._

He said... my _name_.

I almost wasn't even sure that he knew it; he called me Granger so often that the possibility of his having taken notice to my actual name seemed less than likely.

But I wasn't going to let him see how this was affecting me. Not even just affecting me, but blowing my soul into smithereens.

He. Could. Not. Have. The. Power. Of. Controlling. Me.

I grinned at him and pretended like I didn't notice in the least. I was even so wise as to change the topic.

"So, did you like my cookies?"

He seemed to snap out of a personal reverie going on in his head. "What? Cookies? Oh yeah, those cookies. They were great. Some pretty… darn good cookies. Yeah."

"Are you alright?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I had stunned him into a speech impediment with my casual dismissal of my name's declaration.

_Points to Granger._

"I'm fine." He glanced up at me. "Really well, actually."

I softened for a moment, and a thought crossed my mind.

"Hey, Malfoy?"

"Yeah?"

"You haven't called me Mudblood in a while."

He looked dubious for a moment. "Do you want me to? Because I can, if you want."

"Well of course I don't want you to," I said, looking scandalized. "But I'm finding it hard to believe that the term hasn't entered our conversations lately, seeing as you're so fond of it and all."

His face looked drawn for a moment. "I just… wouldn't call you that. Not anymore," he said in correction. "Because I figured out…" he paused. "You're really not all that bad, you know."

"Our entire bloodline, or just me?"

He gazed at me. "Just you, Hermione."

_There he goes dropping the name again._

_I hope he realizes that Hiroshima reoccurs in my heart every time he says it._

This time I decided not to be so ignoring in my response as before.

"Thank you," I said sincerely. I figured that this was the nicest thing I would be able to get him to say for quite a long time, so I might as well make the best of it.

I let a big, almost mocking, smile cross my face. "See what you get when you're nice to people?" I pointed to my beaming cheeks. "This! Because there's these things called smiles, and they're a whole lot nicer than smirks or snee – "

I was cut off as his lips urgently found mine.

How many times could he possibly try to kiss me in the short period of one hour?

I went with it. There was something about it that seemed quite tender and pressing. His tongue gently brushed over mine, and I responded happily.

I almost wondered if he had started changing. Maybe he really meant what he had said about not hating me for being Muggle-born anymore.

But then I decided against the thought.

_Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy, right?_

We kissed for a good minute or so, before breaking away, breathless.

"Sometimes I think that this is all I'm used for," I complained, rubbing my lips. "I'm like a kiss-slave of sorts."

"Better than a house-elf," he said with a grin. "At least you're not wrinkly."

"Not for another good 50 years, I should hope," I said with a sniff.

We stared at each other.

And then started kissing again.

I realized that this was kind of how things were starting to shape out between us – when we couldn't think of anything else to say, our lips would get bored and demand other occupation.

And, I must say, it was pretty nice.

When we finally broke away, I realized that we still hadn't come up with a good plan of action as to how we'd convince people to believe that we were in love.

I brought this up to him.

He studied me for a moment. And then said the cutest thing ever.

"Maybe we don't have to pretend, Hermione."

* * *

**a/n.** Well gee, look who's turning into a charmer before our very own eyes! None other than the Malfoy-man himself. Who's in love with this adorable new version of him? *looks around* *rasies hand gleefully* MEEEEE! :D

Review, pretty please?

You guys are the fire to my woodpile. No reviews = no more chapters, so you need to remedy this imediatelly by clicking that little button down there, yeah?

Love you all! (Especially you, **MtnDew26** - yes, this one goes out to you, dearie/buddy/pal/scandalous potato. So stop getting on my case. Geesh.)

xoxo,  
Sarah(:


End file.
